A Beautiful Ocean
by everything's uglier up close
Summary: My ships are docked in the harbor and ready to sail, baby! / Crack, for FI's shipping week. Now complete!
1. Confessions of a Shipper

title: **Confessions of a Shipper**

AU: Coffeeshop AU

Pairing: Squared OTP and Riordan brOTP (day 1)

* * *

**Monday**

Dear Journal,

Hello. My name is Joan Om. (And I don't care if that's a lame way to start a journal, go away.) I decided to start this thing because I am dead bored and have nothing better to do. Honestly, my life is so uninteresting. I go to school, and then I go to work at the Coffeeshop for the Book Fanatic, better known as CftBF.

I guess something sort of interesting happened today - we got a new customer. Her name is Mels, and she's very cute, especially with Jordan, my platonic best friend/morails/parabatai/WHATEVER. And shut up, yes, it really is platonic. I ship him way too hard with Mels anyway. asdgah just look at this conversation.

JORD: Hi, may I take your or - _whoa_. OMG you're soooo cute. Let's get married and dancein a meadow with rainbows! My name's Jord by the way!

MELS: Oh, hi, Jordjord - I, I mean Jord. *blushes* I'm sorry!

JORD: It's fine, Melsmels. *blushes*

MELS; *blushes harder* And by the way, I totally agree on the marriage. Let's catch butterflies and ride on sunbeams together, squee!

... Okay, maybe the conversation didn't go exactly like that... but I know that's what the two of them were thinking on the inside. Seriously, it's been one day, and they already have cutesy nicknames! I mean, it's so obvious Jordan and Mels are made for each other. Alas, Jord's too shy to make a move so all they do is blush at each other.

Ooh, sudden streak of genius, I got it! I know how to make my life less boring and make the world a better place at the same time! I'm going to be matchmaker for Mels and Jord! It's going to be perfect! Don't you think I'm a genius? Yeah, I think so too. Anyway, that's enough for this entry. Good night!

* * *

**Tuesday**

Dear Journal,

Today I started Phase One of my awesome masterplan: give Jord a motivational speech, whip his butt into shape, and convince him to ask Mels out. So here's how it went...

ME: Okay, Jord, any second Mels is going to come in. What are you going to say to her?

JORD: Uh, I'm going to take her order?

ME: Yeah, but, aren't you going to ask her out? *flails arms for emphasis*

JORD: I... It's not like I like her or anything. *blushes*

ME: Lies! You totally do!

JORD: *blushes harder*

ME: gO DO IT! Ask her out! It's so obvious you've got a crush, and you're perfect for each other!

JORD: *splutters and blushes*

At this point, our boss Maya yelled at us to stop chatting and go to work, so my motivational speech was cut short. I'd thought I'd done a pretty good job, though. Until Mels came in and...

JORD: Melsmels! Hi! *blushes*

MELS: Hi, Jordjord. *blushes* Can I get an iced coffee?

JORD: Of course! Melsmels! *blushes harder*

MELS: *blushes harder*

JORD: *blushes harder*

YOU SEE? All they did was blush at each other! I wanted to smack Jord right there, but, well, I don't think that would've been very professional. Ah, well. There's always tomorrow...

* * *

**Wednesday**

Dear Journal,

I thought of a ship name for Jord and Mels. SQUARED. Because it's Jordjord and Melsmels. JordMels Squared. Or just Squared. Isn't it beautiful?

Anyway, today I started Phase Two of the plan: convince Jord how perfect Mels is for him, which went down like this...

ME: She's rather cute.

JORD: Who's cute?

ME: Oh, you know...

JORD: ...

ME: Melsmels is cute.

JORD: _Did you just say Melsmels?_

ME: Uh, yeah.

JORD: ** off Melsmels is mine RAWRRR

I'm not even kidding. I'm serious, this time! I know I have a tendency to exaggerate a little bit but he really did say "rawr." And the look in his eyes was murderous, murderous! I was torn between squeeing about how protective and cutesy he is with her and being scared for my life. In the end I decided to go with squeeing about how protective and cutesy he is! Progress, definitely.

... Or so I thought. Because then, Mels came in and here's what happened...

JORD: Melsmels! Hi! *blushes*

MELS: Hi, Jordjord. *blushes* Can I get an iced coffee?

JORD: Of course! Melsmels! *blushes harder*

MELS: *blushes harder*

JORD: *blushes harder*

Honestly! It's so obvious they've got it bad for each other and would be perfect together so... why don't they ask each other out? All they do is blush at each other!

Matchmaking these two is going to be harder than I thought.

* * *

**Thursday**

Dear Journal,

adgasdhfoa omgomgomg I can barely calm down aasdghoa omgomgomg doaoaaeo YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I SAW TODAY adsghao they're just so cutecutecutecute squeeeeee!

Okay, so now that I've gotten out my feels a bit, let me try to explain what happened. So, Mels came earlier than usual today and ordered her usual thing and her and Jord did their usual blushing thing, and I was bored and tired and a little discouraged so I left them alone, but wHEN I CAME BACK THEY WERE HUGGING! I squealed so loudly that I think I scared everyone in the shop away, but it was worth it!

I knew my matchmaking would work!

* * *

**Friday**

Dear Journal,

Jord and Mels are officially dating! They even have a wedding day set: TOMORROW! And I'm going to plan it! There will be singing and music and speeches and kissing and squared!

... Okay, maybe not yet. Maybe in a few months or so. Jord did promise to at least let me be a _co_-planner.

In other news, I got fired from CftBF. Apparently "scaring the bejesus out of the customers" by "screeching like a demonic banshee" (my boss's words, not mine) isn't allowed. Huh. It's okay, I got a new job though. I work at this place called FastFood Inn-agiNation. Jord quit his job to join me too, because he's an awesome friend like that... No, it's actually because of Mels. She comes here too! So there will be lots of Squared shippy goodness! I'm pretty excited, actually. Maybe my life won't be so uninteresting anymore. I'll finish this up with Squared's conversation this morning...

JORD: Melsmels! Hi! *blushes*

MELS: Jordjord! You work here now?

JORD: Of course! Melsmels! *blushes harder*

MELS: *blushes harder*

JORD: *blushes harder*

... I suppose some things never change.

* * *

a/n: I'm sorry for how terribly OOC everyone is. Especially Joan. Very, very sorry. I hope it was amusing, at least.


	2. Zomeo and Yewliet

title: **Zomeo and Yewliet**

AU: Daycare AU. No, what do you think? R&J and genderswap AU.

Pairing: Lungs OTP and shipping trio brOTP (Day 2)

Warnings: So crack it makes cocaine look mild. And major OOCness. And did I already mention genderbending? There's kind of a lot, yeah. Also some mild swearing and the "frick frack." Have fun!

Special thanks to: Sparknotes, bless your soul :3 Also, Shakespeare. I am so, so sorry with what I did to your story.

* * *

Once upon a time, in the far away, magical, very peaceful, nation of Fanfictionimagi... hAAAAA no. Sorry, I just couldn't finish that statement. Because Fanfictionimagi Nation, as it is commonly called, is pretty much the least peaceful place in the unvierse.

Anyway, sorry, I got off track. I should introduce myself! I am your Narrator, Willirma Shakespeare. Yes, _the _Shakespeare. I know, I'm amazing. And this is the tragic, beautiful story of Zomeo and Yewliet, two young lovers who were separated by cruel fate.

So, let's try that beginning again. Once upon a time, there was this terrible place called Fanfictionimagi Nation. I suppose, one time in the good old golden days, it was peaceful and magical, but currently it was being ripped apart by a war. Well, more of a feud. But it was a big feud, one that caused everyone to take sides and question their loyalties and reevaulate their lives, one that affected everyone from the little flea on your dog to whatever God resided in heaven above, one that even Satan was worried about, one that potentially had the power to rip apart the multiverse. And it was all about... _pizza_.

You see, the Montagues believed that the best pizza topping was Macaroni. And the Capulets believed the best pizza topping was, obviously, Cashews. It got so bad that the Montagues renamed their family the Macaronis, and the Capulets renamed their family the Cashews. The two families swore to be enemies until the end of their days, to never associate with each other, to hate each other from the day of their birth. As babies, young Macaronis were taught sung this lullaby as they went to bed -

_O, the Cashews_

_They are evil! E! V! I! L!_

_Pizza is only good with macaroni topping_

_And now go to sleep and dream of the ways_

_You can kill the Cashews_

Similarly, as young Cashews sucked their milk bottles (which was flavored with grinded cashews), their mothers cooed this song -

_Macaroni, I hate the Macaronis_

_I want to crush their bones_

_The way I chew on a Cashew on my pizza_

_We're awesome and they're not!_

And thus it went on, the Cashews and the Macaronis, pitting themselves against each other, a feud that was ripping apart the multiverse.

* * *

"And then," sobbed Zomeo, as his best friend Envolio, better known as En, awkwardly papped him, "Joanaline said that she was going to be some sort of celibate nun and she wouldn't marry me! Is it because of my nose?! My nose! En, is there anything wrong with my nose?"

Envolio shook his head. "No, Zomeo, your nose is great."

Zomeo sniffled. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Envolio said. "Listen up, Zomeo, whatever went wrong between you and Joanaline, it's her, not you. If she wants to be a nun, that's her loss. Now, there are plenty of fish in the sea..."

"I'll never meet anyone I love more!" wailed Zomeo. "She was the love of my life! I loved her more than I loved macaroni! I'll never recover! Ever!"

Envolio sighed. He really wasn't cut out for this comforting stuff. "You need serious help, man. Why don't we crash the Cashews' party? To get your mind off it?"

Zomeo looked down at his feet and wiped at his nose with his sleeve while Envolio tried not to look too disgusted. "I can't," Zomeo said with a dramatic sigh. "Nothing is fun since Joanaline doesn't love me! My heart is broken. It will never be fixed. I'm doomed to be unloved and depressed forever..." Suddenly, he perked up. "Wait a minute! I remember, Joanaline said she'd be at the feast, yes, I'm going! Great idea, En, you're a genius!"

"Wait, no..." Envolio tried to protest, but it was too late. The idea was in Zomeo's head, and there was no way to get it out of there. Oh, all the stuff he put up with for his friend...

* * *

Yewliet was trying on dresses for the feast. The feast wasn't too big of an affair, since the Cashews were pretty well off - better off than the Macaronis, anyway - and they held a feast at least three times a year. But it still required fancy dress, meaning lace and full sleeves and skirts. Yewliet sighed. She didn't like wearing dresses. She wished she could wear a tree costume or something. Or that she was a tree. Being a tree would be so much simpler than being a girl...

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. She threw on a conservative brown coat, since her dress was only half-zipped, before saying, "Come in."

Her mother floated in - yes, floated. Her mother, known to all as Mama Cashew, was a graceful woman who always wore fancy floor-length gowns that made it look as if her feet never touched the ground. "Yewlie, dear!" she crooned, walking over and pinching her cheeks. Yewliet winced and wished again that she was a tree.

"Hello, Mama Cashew," she said with a small curtsy, polite as ever. "What brings you here?"

"The feast, of course!" Mama Cashew crooned. "Guess which hottie I managed to invite?"

Yewliet blinked. She wasn't really interested in dating, or shipping, or relationships in general.

"Pardan!" Mama Cashew exclaimed.

"Pear-dun?"

"Pardan!" she repeated. "He's related to the prince, and interested in you. And you're going to see him at the feast! And then you'll fall in love and get married and have babies!" Mama Cashew took out a handkerchief embroidered with tiny cashew-topped pizzas and wiped her eyes. "It'll be beautiful."

Yewliet had zero interest in falling in love or getting married or having babies, but she pretended she agreed with Mama Cashew while the older woman fussed over her dress and other trivial matters. Outwardly, she nodded along and obeyed, but inwardly she was thinking about how stupid a marriage would be - especially at her age - and swore that she would never fall in love.

* * *

"So, you say you need help crashing the Cashews' feast?" Hazcutio asked, observing the two Macaronis in front of him. "Well, you've come to the right guy! By the way, Zomeo, what's with the sobfest?"

Zomeo let out one strangled, "Joanaline," before bursting into tears. Envolio awkwardly papped him, while Hazcutio rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you're hung up over a girl? No! There are plenty of hotties out there - guys and girls and objects all - for you to tap into, if you know what I mean..."

"But I love her!" Zomeo wailed.

Hazcutio rolled his eyes. "Dude, romantic love isn't even real, it's all just about sex."

Envolio was starting to get visibly uncomfortable, and Zomeo was still sobbing, but Hazcutio continued on. "Take it from me, the Haz-cutie-oh. All the cinnamon bun cans that have liked me will agree!"

By this point, they had reached the Cashew house and sneaked in. It wasn't too difficult, since the feast was so busy and relatively unmonitored. Servants in penguin suits bustled around carrying plates of wine, and a gaggle of giggling women in long dresses passed by.

"Ooh," said Hazcutio, "look at that bagel! I'll be back, dudes." And with that, he bounced away, heading for the long table in the center of the room.

"Okay, bye," said Envolio. He turned his attention back to Zomeo. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm not okay. I'll never be okay. My heart is irreparably broken! I'll never get over Joana - whoa," said Zomeo, suddenly noticing a beautiful young girl across the room. She wore a beautiful green dress and an even more beautiful I-hate-the-world expression. "I think I'm in love!"

"Hey, that's great - wait what?" said Envolio, confused at the direction in which the conversation had gone.

"I'm in love!" Zomeo repeated. "With her! En, isn't she hot?" She pointed at the unknown girl.

Envolio squinted. The girl was decent enough, fair skin and forest-green eyes and soft brown curls - okay, she was more than decent, but... "What about Joanaline?"

"Who's that?" asked Zomeo. "Oh man, dude, I gotta talk to her! Wingman me, quick."

"But Joanaline!" Envolio reminded him. "The love of your life? Girl who broke your heart? 'I'll never recover,' remember? Joanaline!"

"Joanawho?" said Zomeo, genuinely confused. "Look, I have no clue who you're talking about, but that girl - she's the love of my life, the girl I'm going to marry, the most hottest thing I've ever laid eyes on, my soulmate, who I will love forever and ever - "

"Okay!" said Envolio. "I'll be your wingman." The moment the words escaped his mouth, he regretted it. Ugh, the things he did for his crazy friends...

"Is that a Macaroni I see?" growled an unpleasantly familiar voice. As the repugnant Snowbalt's face came into view, Envolio was seriously regretting accompanying Zomeo to this party. Why, why was he even friends with Zomeo? Why? Snowbalt was, to put it nicely, a bully. You didn't want to mess with him. He was six feet tall, weighed three hundred pounds, and had the ugliest gray beard known to mankind. He was also a Cashew, and all Macaronis hated Cashews by default.

"Snowbalt, oh hello," said Zomeo with a nervous grin.

"That's President Snowbalt to you," he sneered. "What are you doing at a Cashew party, you Macaroni? I'm going to kill you!"

"Now, now, Snowbalt..." said Papa Cashew, restraining the belligerent teen. Envolio took that opportunity to high-tail it out of there. "Come on, Zomeo," he whispered. "Zomeo?" But Zomeo was gone.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, KILL YOU, I HATE YOU!" Snowbalt was screaming against his restraints.

_Oh, forget Zomeo_, thought Envolio. He was going to run for his dear life.

* * *

Yewliet was rather bored.

Honestly, she hated feasts, and while Pardan was nice enough, Yewliet simply wasn't interested in guys or marriage. At all. Pardan, however, wasn't getting the hint, rambling on about how much he loved math, particularly exponents. Like, _wtf_, Yewliet thought. When a brawl broke out in the middle of the feast involving Snowbalt and some Macaronis, she took that as her excuse to leave Pardan's side and go exploring or something. Anything would be more fun.

Not looking where she was going, she bumped into some guy. "Sorry," she said, looking up. Whoa. He was hot. Like, really hot. Like, sandy blonde hair and blue eyes hot. Suddenly, she felt her mouth going dry, her face flushing, her heart beating at a hundred miles per second. "Oh my God, I love you," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Why had she said that? Great, she'd probably scared the hot guy away... but she couldn't help it, she was in love, and he was soooo hot!

"I love you too!" the boy responded to her surprise. "I love you so much! I don't even know your name, and let's get married!"

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" Yewliet exclaimed. And with that, the two lovers shared a passionate kiss. She pulled away, red in the face. "Wait, but what is your name? I'm Yewliet Cashew."

"I'm Zomeo Macaroni," said Zomeo, before processing what the hot girl had just said. _Cashew_? "Oh my God... you're a Cashew..."

"And you're a Macaroni..." Yewliet gasped.

"But that doesn't matter!" Zomeo exclaimed. "You're the hottest girl I've ever seen, so I don't care! We're going to get married tomorrow! Look, wait for me here, at this exact place, exact time. I'll be here, so we can elope."

Yewliet nodded. "Okay." She kissed him again. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Zomeo, tearing up. "I love you so much."

* * *

It was a lovely morning, and Friar Lawrayce hummed to himself as he picked herbs in his garden for his demon-summoning potions. Oops, did I say demon-summoning? I meant... healing! Healing, of course. Friar Lawrayce was a friar, a devout Catholic, a God-loving man. He didn't summon demons in his spare time, psh.

He looked up when he heard approaching footsteps to see a familiar mop of blond hair and round boyish face. "Zomeo!" he barked. "Don't you dare step on those flowers! They're worth more than your soul!" Realizing he had spoken a bit harshly, he cleared his throat and corrected himself. "I mean, Zomeo, what brings you here? Please don't step on my herbs."

"Sorry, Friar Rayray - "

"Lawrayce, you lil sh - I mean, Zomeo, my boy, my name is Friar _Law_rayce." He plastered on a smile. God, he hated people. Why couldn't he just pick the herbs for his demon-sum - _healing _potions in peace?

"Sorry," said Zomeo. "I came to ask you a favor."

Friar Lawrayce observed the boy in front of him in depth for the first time. Gray bags under his eyes showed that he was tired and probably hadn't slept the previous night, yet his smile was more radiant than it had ever been. He frowned. What could have brought on such a reaction? "Kid, did you do the frick frack with - _I mean_, Zomeo, were you with Joanaline last night?"

"Good Macaronis!" Zomeo exclaimed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Who's this Joanaline, and why does everyone keep talking about her? Envolio was talking about her yesterday too, but who is she even, and why would I be with her? Is she hot? Meh, I bet she's not hot as my Yewliet!"

The friar blinked. "Yewliet?" He was so surprised that he even temporarily forgot that he hated people. He sniffed. There was something different in the air, too, something that smelled like...

Zomeo nodded. "Yewliet! She's very hot. I met her yesterday, and I love her. We're going to get married, but she's a Cashew so we have to do it in secret, since, you know, my family hates her family, and her family hates my family. So anyway, I was wondering if you want to perform our wedding ceremony?"

_A ship_. That's what Friar Lawrayce was smelling, it was a ship. That was interesting; not all ships had smells. For instance, the ship of Zomeo and Joanaline had no smell. That was how the friar had known that the ship was doomed to fail. Only the best ones had smells, and this one smelled delicious. And ships were his weakness, the one thing that gave him joy in this world that he otherwise hated. Oh, and this was a good one, he could tell. "Yeah, of course!" he said. "I'll arrange for everything, I swear. When do you want to get married?"

"This afternoon!" exclaimed Zomeo boldly.

"This afternoon?" he repeated in disbelief. "You say you met this girl last night?"

"But it's true love," he said dreamily. "Yes, I want to marry her this afternoon."

He sighed. "Okay, fine." The things he did for his ship. And maybe if this ship sailed then that silly feud between the Macaronis and Cashews would end, and they'd all realize that the best pizza topping was, obviously, the blood of - _herbs_! The best pizza topping was herbs.

Zomeo's cheerful voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Thanks, Raygun, I knew I could count on you."

"_Lawrayce_, you lil sh - I mean, Zomeo, I've told you many times that it is Friar _Lawrayce_."

God, he hated people. This better be a good ship, to make up for him going through all of this...

* * *

"Mm, baby, ooh," moaned Hazcutio as he sunk his teeth into sweet soft skin. "Dear Lord of Heaven above, baby, no, nnnggggg."

"Hazcutio, it's just a cinnamon bun," said Envolio, sighing as his friend moaned over the sweet pastry.

Not paying attention at all, Hazcutio stroked the remaining bite of the cinnamon bun before sucking it into his mouth and swallowing the last bite. "That," he declared, "was the best bun I had today."

"That's the _only _bun you had today," Envolio reminded.

"Not for long," Hazcutio said gleefully. "Come on, let's go to the bakery. I'm going to get some more buns. After all, YOLO. Some people like - " Hazcutio coughed in a way that suspiciously sounded like _Zomeo _- "seem to have this silly notion that when it comes to girls there is just one soulmate." He gagged. "No. Like cinnamon buns, girls are best taken in batches. With lots of moaning."

Envolio pretended not to have heard Hazcutio and changed the subject. "Hey, so, speaking of Zomeo, I heard President Snowbalt challenged him to a duel."

Hazcutio laughed. "Zomeo's not going to win. He's a wuss. Love makes people wussies. But then again, Snowbalt's a loser too, with such an ugly beard." Hazcutio and Envolio both shivered at the thought of Snowbalt's ugly beard.

"Did you just call me a wuss?" said Zomeo, coming out from the corner of the street.

"Hey, 'sup, wuss," said Hazcutio. "Join me on my trip to the bakery."

"But I just came from there," he said, lying. (Zomeo had, of course, been at Friar Lawrayce's.) "And I'm not a wuss. Love doesn't make me wussy. It makes me sexy."

Hazcutio rolled his eyes. "Oh, _please_. SUCK MY **!"

"SUCK MY PIENIS!" Zomeo screamed back.

"SUCK MY **!"

"SUCK MY PIENIS!"

"**!"

"PIENIS!"

"Oh, look, someone's coming," said Envolio, trying to act casual as, in the far distance, he saw an elderly woman trailed by what appeared to be a small panda approaching. God, this was so embarrassing...

"Yo, Zomeo, where were you last night anyway? With Joanaline?" Hazcutio said, taking a temporary break from the _**_ screaming.

"I have no clue who Joanaline is, but no, I wasn't with her. I was with someone more important," Zomeo answered.

"You're lying," said Hazcutio, rolling his eyes. But the thing was, Hazcutio had a feeling that Zomeo was telling the truth, strangely enough. Something was changed in the air, something smelled different... _Oh, whatever_, he thought. "Zomeo, you're such a **."

"Pienis," he retorted.

"**!"

"PIENIS!"

"**, **, **, **, **!"

"Pienis, pienis, piiieeeenissss!"

"I'M NOT INTERESTED," shrieked a loud voice, interrupting Hazcutio and Zomeo's intricate and witty sexual verbal jousting.

Hazcutio and Zomeo turned to see a rather fat old woman wearing a huge, ugly veil that was being kept off the ground by a small, miserable-looking panda.

Hazcutio snorted. "Who are you? And why are you wearing that ugly sail?"

The woman grunted. "IT'S FASHIONABLE you dimwit. Also a strangling weapon. I am Nurse Angel. Is there a Zomeo around here?"

Zomeo raised his hand. "Oh, that's me!"

Nurse Angel nodded. "Alright then, come with me. I've got private matters with you to talk about."

Hazcutio laughed. "Oooh, private matters," he teased. "Is this the woman than you were with last night, if you weren't with Joanaline? I'm all for you moving on, but you definitely could've done better, man. From the smell in the air I'd thought it was a lot better than this."

"No!" Zomeo spluttered whlie the nurse clutched a little too tightly onto her veil. "And what are you talking about? There is no smell in the air!" he added.

Nurse Angel and Hazcutio both turned to Zomeo and gaped. "What? It reeks in here!" they said at the same time.

"That was my line!" said Hazcutio, turning to Nurse Angel. "**."

"Excuse me, that was so _my _line!" she shot back. "Panda, tell him so!"

The panda, which had up to that point been sitting miserably on the ground, stood up and sighed sadly.

Hazcutio snorted. "Ha, your own panda doesn't like you!"

The nurse screeched. "NO, NO, NO!"

"Uh, guys?" interrupted Zomeo. "Nurse, you said you needed to talk to me?"

Nurse Angel turned towards Zomeo and adjusted her veil, trying to look as dignified as possible. "Yes, in private, away from this insolent red panda." She spat out the word _red panda_ as if it was the worst insult a person could give. Hazcutio only snickered. Her head high in the air, Nurse Angel reached for Zomeo's arm and pulled him behind the corner.

"I'm sorry about Hazcutio," said Zomeo. "He's a great friend, really, but scary to newbs."

The nurse sniffed. "I am _not _a newb. Anyway, I came to talk about Yewliet?"

Zomeo gasped. "Yewliet? My love? What does she say?"

"She asked me about the wedding plans," Nurse Angel explained. "By the way, you two are already getting married? Because from what I could tell you just met last night and, well, if you have bad intentions, I'm going to murder you with my secret panda army."

Intimidated at the prospect of a giant panda army, Zomeo solemnly said, "No, I swear, I promise not to double-cross Yewliet. I want to marry her, this afternoon, at Friar Raimence's cell!"

"Don't you mean Friar Lawrayce?"

Zomeo shook his head. "Nah, I'm pretty sure it's Raimence. So, you'll tell her I want to marry her there?"

The Nurse nodded. "Yeah, sure. Okay, if that's all, I'm leaving. Yewliet's waiting. See you." She turned around and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Zomeo shouted, rushing up to her. "Can I ask you one more favor?"

"What kind of favor?" Nurse Angel asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Well," began Zomeo, "after Yewliet and I get married, I want to, you know, get it _on _with her - "

"Get it on," the Nurse repeated blankly.

Zomeo nodded. "Yup. Get it on. Preferably with a bed. So, could you arrange it so that I can sneak into Yewliet's bedroom after our wedding and we can, you know, have private sexytimes?" As he spoke, the strange scent in the air seemed to get stronger. The Nurse didn't know what it was, but she felt compelled to do as Zomeo said, even if Zomeo Macaroni was the sworn enemy of her employers, the Cashews.

"Well, alright," she heard herself saying.

* * *

"I now pronounce you man and wife," stated the Friar solemnly as he adjusted his reading glasses and looked up from his Bible.

"We're married!" exclaimed Zomeo, grabbing Yewliet and twirling her around. He grabbed her face and proceeded to eat it - well, at least, that's how it looked like to the Friar.

"We're in a church," he tried to remind them in vain. Ah, to hell with it, he thought. He shipped it. He shipped it so hard. Wiping a tear from his eye, he left the two teenagers on their own to go pick some more herbs.

* * *

"Where did that Zomeo go this time?" Hazcutio complained as he nibbled on his cinnamon bun. He and Envolio were right outside the bakery, lounging on one of the tables. Hazcutio was eating while Envolio was playing with the umbrella attached to the table. "Honestly, he just disappeared with that weird nurse person. And what is it with the smell in the air?"

"Um, Hazcutio," said Envolio, "there _is _no smell in the air. And, um, you're my friend and all, but are you right in the head right now?"

"I can't be hallucinating; I'm certain I'm smelling something!" Hazcutio said. He sniffed. "It smells like sugar and salt and... Snowbalt's ugly beard?"

"My beard is not ugly," Snowbalt growled. Hazcutio gulped as he saw the face of the angry Cashew. But he wasn't about to show that he was afraid. Taking a casual bite of his cinnamon bun, he stood up to his full height and looked at Snowbalt squarely in the eye.

"Yeah, dude, it is ugly," he said.

"Oh yeah?" screeched Snowbalt. "You wanna go?" He raised his fists.

"Yeah, I wanna go!" answered Hazcutio, raising his fists.

A small crowd formed, murmuring amongst themselves and anticipating who would throw the first punch. Envolio tried not to headdesk.

Just then, Zomeo strolled in, a silly grin on his face and lipstick marks on his neck. "Hey, En," he said, sitting in what used to be Hazcutio's seat. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that we're fighting!" yelled Hazcutio. "Yo, Zo, give me backup. We're going to beat the ** out of Snowbalt!"

Zomeo frowned. He was married to Yewliet now, and Yewliet was a Cashew. Therefore, it would be bad if he fought with Snowbalt Cashew; he was her kinsman. He shrugged. "That's okay, we shouldn't fight."

"Are you insane, Zomeo? I knew it! Love makes you a wussy! You giant wuss! You **!"

Snowbalt took his opportunity and punched Hazcutio while he was distracted. The crowd gasped and shrieked as Snowbalt took a hidden dagger out of his boot and stabbed Hazcutio in the chest. "Oh!" Hazcutio managed to get out, blood bubbling out of his mouth. "I've been impaled. And now, with my dying breaths, I'll somehow manage to give a very long, dramatic speech. So here my long, dramatic speech on my deathbed begins. Give my love to my cinnamon buns and bagels, and most importantly, my cat, my one true love. Zomeo, my death is your fault. O, O, we are destiny's idiots! Snowbalt, I hope you rot in hell. And lastly, I think I've figured out what I've been smelling all along; it's a ship isn't it? The ship of - " Alas, Hazcutio died before he could complete his sentence.

"Good riddance," said Snowbalt, dusting off his hands. "Let this be a message to all you Macaronis - "

"No!" shrieked Zomeo, interrupting Snowbalt. "You just killed my best friend! So now I'm going to kill you!" Taking the dagger out of Hazcutio's chest, Zomeo plunged it through Snowbalt's beard and deep into his neck. The bottom half of Snowbalt's beard drifted to the ground as his head lolled over to one side and his body fell over, face-first, landing with an ugly _crunch _and a puddle of blood. The knife still in Zomeo's hands and blood staining his tunic, he suddenly realized what he had done.

"Oh. My. God," he whispered. With the gaping, staring crowd and two corpses around him, Zomeo could think of nothing else to do but to flee. He ran.

* * *

Meanwhile, Yewliet was pacing in her room and talking to herself in a very quotable, dramatic soliloquy. "I wonder where Zomeo is. I hope that nighttime comes soon. Because when nighttime comes, Zomeo will come. And when Zomeo comes, things will happen. Great things. Zomeo, come quickly, so that you and I can do the frick frack! Isn't this such a quotable, dramatic soliloquy? Oops, my nurse just came. Now this is a quotable, dramatic monologue."

"Yewliet, you'll never believe what happened," said Nurse Angel, breathing very heavily.

"What happened?" she asked.

"YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED," Nurse Angel repeated, flailing her arms.

"Okay, _what happened_?" Yewliet repeated.

"No, no, no, Yewliet, you don't get it. _YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED_, asdgsd, YEWLIET he's dead, ohmygod, OH. MY. GOD," the nurse spluttered, pacing around.

"Who's dead?" Yewliet asked.

The nurse didn't answer but rather continued to flail around and splutter nonsense. "YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE IT YEWLIET! YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED."

Yewliet ran a hand through her hair. "Nurse, calm down. Who. Is. Dead."

"Your husband!" Nurse Angel got out.

Yewliet gasped. "What? No! He's dead? But we didn't even get to do the frick frack together!" Sobbing, she threw herself onto her bed.

"No, he's not dead! But your husband killed him!" Nurse Angel said. "I mean, Snowbalt! Your cousin! Zomeo killed him and then he was banished!"

Yewliet sat up, patting at her eyes with the edge of her blanket. "So he's not dead?"

"Yeah, but he killed Snowbalt!" Nurse Angel repeated. "He killed Snowbalt, and he was banished from Fanfiction Imagination!"

"Snowbalt, who cares about Snowbalt? Even if Snowbalt is my cousin and kin and a boy I grew up with, Zomeo, the dude I met yesterday and married this afternoon, is more important! And he's been banished! That, nurse, is the real tragedy!" And with that, Yewliet threw herself back onto her bed, sobbing.

The nurse watched the sobbing girl and shifted from one foot to another. "There, there," she finally said, awkwardly papping Yewliet. Yewliet only bawled louder and blew very loudly into the nurse's veil.

"This won't do," the nurse muttered to herself, taking off the veil and discarding it in disgust. She sighed. She had to fix this.

* * *

Meanwhile, Friar Lawrayce was dealing with his own blubbering, sobbing mess: Zomeo.

"What'll I do if I can't be with Yewliet?" he wailed. "My life is over! Ruined! Pointless! There's no reason for me to be alive. Why am I even alive? What'll I do without Yewliet? Oh, my sweet, beautiful love, what'll I do? What'll I do? _What'll I do_?" He fell to the ground, an undignified heap repeating the same phrases over and over.

At this point, Nurse Angel came in, donning a new, slightly shorter veil and trying to catch her breath. "What's with the heap?" she asked, poking Zomeo with her toe. Not even realizing the nurse had come, Zomeo continued to sob.

"Oh, it's about Yewliet," said Friar Lawrayce.

"Yewliet's just like that too!" replied Nurse Angel. "Crying and yelling about Zomeo, it's all she does! She ruined my best veil, too!"

"It's a pity," the friar continued. "Their ship smelled so good too..."

"Ship?" Nurse Angel asked, scrunching her nose. "Oh, so that's what I've been smelling!"

"Not everyone can smell ships. In fact, you're the first person I've met other than I who could smell a ship," said the friar. "Only the Most Ultimate Shippers can smell ships."

The nurse shrugged. "I met one other guy, Hazcutio. He's dead now, though. Also he was a donkeyhole. What a pity, huh? We could've formed a club and been friends or something."

A loud wail from Zomeo reminded the musing friar and nurse of the matter at hand. "Yewliet, what'll I do without you? Oh, I ought to just end my life, it would be better than this misery!" He stood up on shaky legs and reached for the dagger on the friar's table.

"You idiot!" Friar Lawrayce yelled, slapping the knife out of the teenager's hand. "Listen up, Zomeo. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN!" Zomeo stopped mid-sob at the friar's unexpected outburst and stared unabashedly, tear tracks and mucus all over his face and his mouth wide open. "I mean, uh, suicide is not the answer according to our holy and righteous Lord," corrected Friar Lawrayce, composing himself. "Look, there's still time for you to have one night with Yewliet if you go right now. I'm sure you'll work something out."

The nurse nodded. "Papa and Mama Cashew won't check up on Yewliet for a while, I know. You can go to her." The nurse had barely finished completing her sentence before Zomeo was scrambling away, whooping in joy.

"Have safe sex!" Nurse Angel yelled as he watched the boy run away. The friar wiped a tear from his eye and sobbed into Nurse Angel's veil. She snatched it off in disgust.

"Hey!" she shouted. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry, I don't let my emotions overrule me often," Friar Lawrayce replied. "It's just... I ship it so hard." The nurse couldn't argue with that.

* * *

_a few hours since i saw you last_

_not like i was counting or something_

_or counting to something_

_o zomeo, o zomeo, wherefore art thou zomeo_

_i miss and love you_

_without you i am soooo angsty_

"Yewliet!"

Her head snapped up, and she dropped her quill on her notebook at the sound of the familiar voice. "Zomeo?" she asked, scrambling off her bed and towards her window. "Zomeo!"

"Yewliet!" Zomeo shouted, waving his arms. He grabbed onto the branches of a nearby tree and climbed up towards Yewliet's balcony. With her help, he scrambled over the railing, landing on top of her. Yewliet giggled.

"I can't believe you're here!" she said. "I thought you'd never come. I filled up half a journal with angsty poetry about you!"

"Oh, my love," said Zomeo, tearing up. "I'm here now."

* * *

Her full skirts sweeping across the stairs, Mama Cashew floated upstairs towards her daughter's bedroom. How she managed to get up the stairs without tripping over all the lace and layers of her dress is a miracle that has been contemplated by thousands of people, who, alas, have never found a plausible explanation.

"Yoo-oooliet," she cooed, knocking on the door.

Coming from the other side of the door, she heard a loud crash, lots of frenzied shuffling, and muffled voices. "Coming, Mother," she finally heard her daughter say.

"May I enter?" she asked.

More crashing and shuffling noises. "Y-yes, of course," Yewliet said.

Mama Cashew pushed the door open to see her daughter lying on her bed, her blankets messy and dressed in nothing but a tunic that she didn't remember buying... huh. Something was off here... "What was that noise?" she asked.

"What noise?" Yewliet asked, turning her head to face her mother.

Suddenly, there was a loud _CRASH! _outside. It sort of sounded like someone falling out of a tree...

"That noise," said Mama Cashew.

"Oh," said Yewliet nervously. "That was, uh, um, uh - "

"My sneeze!" Nurse Angel interrupted. "Achoocrash!" Behind Mama Cashew's back, Yewliet mouthed '_Thank you_.' Nurse Angel rolled her eyes - the things she did for her Yewliet.

A wrinkle appeared in Mama Cashew's forehead, but then she shrugged it off. "Ah, well, Yewliet, Nurse Angel, it doesn't matter. I have news for you, very exciting news! You - Yewliet, I mean, not you Nurse Angel - are getting married to Pardan on Thursday! That's two days from now, two! Days! Ta-da!" She beamed at her daughter, expecting to see utter joy and excitement flit across her face, but instead her daughter looked confused. "Well?" Mama Cashew prompted. "React, react! What do you think?"

Yewliet stared at her, the confused expression still on her face. Finally, she opened her mouth and said, "Lol."

"What?"

"Lol," Yewliet repeated.

"This isn't some joke!" Mama Cashew said, upset at her daughter's unexpected reaction. "Never mind that you're thirteen, and your cousin died today! You're getting married in two days! This is real! You are marrying Pardan in two days! We must prepare!" Mama Cashew continued to float across the room, repeating the same phrases.

"What's all this racket?" said Papa Cashew, entering Yewliet's room.

"Yewliet thinks marrying Pardan is some joke!" Mama Cashew said, turning to her husband.

"What is the meaning of this nonsense?" boomed Papa Cashew. "Yewliet, agree to your marriage! Say it now: I agree to marry Pardan!"

Yewliet, again, said nothing but, "Lol."

"Insolent child!" Papa Cashew hissed. "Say it now! Or I'll kick you out of my house!"

"Isn't that a bit harsh?" Nurse Angel said, coming to Yewliet's defense. "Come on, she _is _thirteen..."

"You!" Papa Cashew yelled, turning to the nurse, his nostrils flaring. "Who is the boss here? Oh yeah, me! Now don't interrupt me, especially not in front of my daughter!" He turned back to Yewliet. "Say you'll marry Pardan! Say it!"

"Lol."

"This is hopeless," said Papa Cashew with a sigh. "Yewliet, you disgust me. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter." Turning on his heel, he stormed out of his daughter's bedchamber. Mama Cashew followed, leaving just the nurse and Yewliet.

"What should I do?" Yewliet said as soon as her parents were out of the room and out of earshot, turning to the nurse. "I can't marry Pardan. I don't love him. I love Zomeo!"

Nurse Angel chewed the inside of her lip. "I don't know, Yewliet. It doesn't seem like there's any other option. Zomeo's banished, and Pardan's available."

"So... you're saying I should marry Pardan?" Yewliet asked, her voice eerily calm.

Nurse Angel shrugged. "I... don't see anything else you can do. I'm really sorry, Yewliet."

"Yeah," she said quietly, looking at her feet. "Me too. You can leave now."

"I'm sure you need some alone time," she said sympathetically. Nurse Angel shuffled out, her little panda servant trailing her, and closed the door behind her.

"What a rat," Yewliet muttered as soon as her nurse was gone. "I hate her! I shall never, ever, ever trust Nurse Angel again, even if she's been nothing but looking out for me since Day One. Ever!"

* * *

_Raprapraprap._

"Come in," said Pardan. "Whoever that is can come in, right, Friar Lawrayce?" He turned to the friar, who was sitting in a chair and cataloging some of his herbs. Friar Lawrayce nodded.

The door swung open to reveal an out-of-breath Yewliet. "Friar! I need your - " She trailed off when she saw Pardan, sitting in the chair opposite to the friar. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying not to make it so obvious that she hated the prick.

"Halloa, future wife," said Pardan goodnaturedly. _Ugh. Condescending prick and loser,_ Yewliet thought. "I named my math textbook after you." _Condescending prick, loser, _and _weirdo_, Yewliet revised.

"That's nice," she said out loud. "Um, if you don't mind, I have private matters to discuss with the friar."

"Well, okay," said Pardan. "I respect your privacy." He bowed a little bit before leaving. _Condescending prick, loser, weirdo, and disrespectful donkeyhole_, Yewliet thought.

"What brings you here, Yewliet?" asked the friar.

"I hate Pardan," she said bluntly. "But I have to marry him. What should I do?"

The friar looked up from his files and stared at the girl, contemplating. Pardan was a nice enough - and actually said his name correctly - and maybe Pardan and Yewliet could be a match... But no. Their ship didn't smell. "Okay," he said. "I very conveniently have this potion that will make you appear dead even though you're not dead, a recipe I ran into while summoning de - making medicine."

"Okay, I'm following, go on," urged Yewliet.

"You're going to go back to your family and pretend you agree to marry Pardan. But the night before the wedding, you'll pretend to die. You'll be taken to the Cashew tomb. By the time you wake up, Zomeo will be there, and you'll run out of Fanfictionimagi Nation together!" Friar Lawrayce finished with a flourish.

"Wow!" exclaimed Yewliet. "That is a perfect plan! I see absolutely nothing that can go wrong with that!"

The friar beamed. "I don't mean to brag, but... yes. It is a perfect plan, and there is absolutely nothing at all that can go wrong with it."

"But wait, how will Zomeo know I'm not really dead?" Yewliet asked.

"I know where he's lurking on the outskirts of Fanfictionimagi Nation. I'll have a friar friend of mine deliver letters to him," Friar Lawrayce explained. "Don't worry, there is absolutely nothing that can go wrong with this plan. Nothing!"

* * *

Papa and Mama Cashew were sitting in the study together, still fuming over their daughter. However, they had resolved not to talk about it for the moment, so Papa Cashew sat reading a book, while Mama Cashew was being fanned by the nurse.

At that moment, the door creaked, and Yewliet entered.

"What are you doing here, showing your disgraceful face?" snapped Papa Cashew, who was still angry.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she said meekly. "It's just, I think you're right. I'll be happy to marry Pardan."

Immediately, Mama Cashew squealed, and Papa Cashew stood up and clapped his hands in joy. "Really? This is wonderful, marvelous! Oh, I'm so excited!"

"You'll have the most beautiful babies," Mama Cashew gushed. She grabbed Nurse Angel's veil and wiped the happy tears streaming down her face. Nurse Angel tried to resist the urge to slap Mama Cashew in the face and discarded yet another veil in disgust.

Papa Cashew held up a hand, gesturing for Mama Cashew to stop talking. "I'm so excited that I've decided that the wedding will be tomorrow! Instead of in two days."

An undecipherable expression that almost looked like panic flitted across Yewliet's face, but it was replaced so quickly with a joyous smile that her parents decided that they had simple imagined the look. "That's wonderful, father," said Yewliet. "May I go into my bedchamber alone now so that I can change into some possible wedding dresses?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, dear?" Mama Cashew asked.

Yewliet shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm fine. I'll surprise you."

"I'm sure you will, dear!" the older woman said as her daughter turned around and rushed to her room. Oh, this was so exciting!

Little did she know, Yewliet had a very different surprise in store.

* * *

Alone in her bedroom, Yewliet set the potion on her desk and stared at the murky green liquid. Was it safe to drink? Could she trust the friar? What if the potion didn't work and she woke up too early and suffocated in the casket? She felt like right now was a really good time to give a really long, dramatic, quotable speech mulling on her inner turmoil and drama and love for Zomeo. "Lol," she said, very dramatically and quotably. And with that, she drank the potion.

* * *

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_!"

In the Cashew house, Yewliet's "dead" body had been found, and everyone was screaming.

"She was going to get married tomorrow too!" Mama Cashew wailed. "My daughter, my only daughter!"

"Oh, dead Yewliet, you are some fancy extended metaphor that takes up like fifteen lines," Papa Cashew mourned.

"Yewliet, how can you be dead?" the nurse sniffled. She was so upset that she blew her nose into her own veil.

* * *

"_WaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa_!"

... But no one was as upset as Zomeo. His cries were louder than those of the nurse, Mama Cashew, and Papa Cashew, combined.

"Tell me it isn't so, Rachellysar," he begged to the servingman who had brought him news.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But it's true. Yewliet Cashew is dead."

"_WaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa_!"

* * *

Meanwhile, the friar was calmly sitting in his cell, writing a paper on the demon-summoning - erm, healing - properties of a pentagon when a shadow fell across his paper. He looked up to see a familiar smiling face.

"Brother Kayn!" he said, standing up and giving his fellow friar a hug. Friar Kayn was one of the few people Friar Lawrayce actually liked instead of pretended to like. "What did Romeo say when you gave him my letter?"

Friar Kayn's smile slipped off his face, and he shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Brother Lawrayce, I am so sorry, but I was taking care of the ill and diseased all day, and I could not deliver the letter. Should I do it now?"

"But it's too late!" Friar Lawrayce exclaimed, pulling sharply away from the hug. "Zomeo needs to know the letter now or..." The full impact of the unsent letter hit him squarely in the chest. "Oh, sh - "

* * *

"It is impossible for me to live without Yewliet," Zomeo cried. "I must see her beautiful face, even if it is a dead beautiful face. Rachellysar, give me the torch. I'm going to sneak into the Cashew tomb so that I can see Yewliet."

Rachellysar nodded. "I'll wait out here for you."

Zomeo shook his head. "No, you can leave. You should leave."

Rachellysar bit his lip. He didn't quite trust Zomeo - he seemed a bit mad as of late, and well, he was worried. "Well, okay," he said, even though he was planning to hover around the tomb just in case.

Zomeo had barely heard Rachellysar's response - he was already gone, disappeared into the tomb with his torch. He lasted for around one and a half seconds before breaking into a desperate run. His only thoughts were of Yewliet, Yewliet and her hotness and poetry and hotness and deepness and hotness. But mostly her hotness. And her deadness. Zomeo fingered the vial that he'd bought from the apothecary in his pocket. A few swallows, and he would be painlessly dead. If not, he had his knife in his other pocket.

Gripping his torch, he walked through the long hall, letting his heart magically lead him to Yewliet's coffin. Soon, he found himself in a wide open chamber, with a coffin in the middle. "Oh, Yewliet," he whispered. "You died too young. I - I love you so much, you are my life, the one big and true and wonderful love of my life, and I can't believe you're gone, and - " He read the name on the coffin. _Snowbalt Cashew_. Oops. Wrong room.

He heard a faint clatter and turned around and to see a very small light in the distance, coming from the other side of the chamber. His hand on his dagger just in case, he ran towards the source of the light and found himself in another large, open chamber, one that was more brightly lit so that he didn't really need the torch anymore. In the center was another coffin, one made of tan gnarled wood with green leaves on the top like a tree, and the word _Yewliet_ inscribed on the side in fancy script.

"Yewliet," he said reverently.

"Pardan me?" said Pardan, his dark hair peeking out from behind Yewliet's coffin. "Ahaha, get it, Pardan, and my name is Pardan... no?"

"Who the ** are you and what are you doing making bad puns around Yewliet's grave?" Zomeo snarled, gripping his dagger.

"Pardan, Yewliet's fiancee-to-be. And you are?"

"I'm Yewliet's husband, and what do you mean fiancee-to-be?" he hissed. That settled it, Zomeo had enough. Without thinking, he stabbed the dagger through Pardan's chest. Good riddance. The murder taken care of, he went back to mourning for the love of his life. "Oh Yewliet, my hot Yewliet," he said. He pried the coffin open with his fingers. Yewliet lay in the tree-shaped coffin, her face calm and pale, as beautiful in death as in life. Tears dripped off his face. "I can't live without you. And so, I will kill myself, which actually is not tragically beautiful at all, but it shall be written in such a way." He took out the potion, stroked Yewliet's cold face one last time, and emptied the bottle with one large swallow.

* * *

Yewliet was dreaming about being a tree. There was a saucy-smiled girl scrubbing ice cream off him - yes, _him_, Yewliet was male in this dream strangely enough - while he giggled. _I knew Yew loved me, _she says. He feels a hand stroke where his cheek would be were he not a tree and then -

Her eyes flew open. She was herself again - her usual female self, in a tree-shaped coffin. "Zomeo?" she asked tentatively. When no one replied, she repeated, "Zomeo!" But all she heard was the echo of her shout in the empty Cashew Tomb. Standing up, she brushed the dust of her skirt. Where was her Zomeo, her hot saucy Zomeo? She looked down as she stepped out of the coffin to see Pardan's dead body, a knife sticking out of his bloody chest and his glassy eyes still open. Good riddance, that one. But then -

She gasped. Zomeo. Zomeo. Was. Dead. She saw an empty bottle next to him and realized that he must have poisoned himself. Tears flocked to her eyes as she crouched down and kissed his cold, dead lips. "Zomeo, Zomeo, no. I can't live while you're dead. I can't." The gleam of the knife, sticking out of Pardan's chest, caught her eye, and she pulled the blade out. "Lol, gleeful mini-sword!" And with those last words, she killed herself.

* * *

Blahblahblah, I suppose you know what happens next. The trio's dead body is found, the friar explains what happens in a very long, quotable monologue, the Cashews and Macaronis decide to end their silly feud which wraps up the romantic tragedy nicely and also provides the moral that family feuds are stupid, more long, quotable monologues, blahbityblahblah, all that jazz, right?

Wrong!

What? I'm Willirma Shakespeare! My story, my rulez. And my rulez say that all of a sudden everyone who lives in the land of Fanfictionimagi Nation just drops dead for no legit reason except that I just feel like it. Hey, I've pretty much killed off almost everyone anyway. Might as well do this thing right and actually kill everyone.

And so, everyone in the land of Fanfictionimagi Nation that wasn't already dead suddenly died.

Lol.

**THE END**

* * *

Disclaimer - I don't own the real Romeo and Juliet, and I don't actually hate Shakespeare or anything. There's also a reference to "Would You Like Another Slice of Evil?" by April, which isn't mine either.

Apologies for the OOCness of everyone! I'm also very sorry that this came out so monstrously long. If you actually read every bit of this horrible crackfic you get kudos and a kitten sticker. If you review you may even get a real kitten.


	3. Welcome to FMS

title: **Welcome to FMS**

AU: High school, although I didn't do my research as thoroughly as Joan because I'm lazy as chicken scratch.

Pairings: Raim OTP, Rayzel brOTP, and a bunch of guest pairing mentions. (Day 3)

Warnings: Swearing, implied... _stuff_. OOC and crackiness. Read at your own risk.

* * *

_SQUEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAK_

Zoey woke up to the awful sound of her hamster alarm clock Jordan ringing. Well, awful because that meant she had to wake up. The noise itself wasn't too awful, especially because Jordan was her cute boopable son. (Things are complicated, don't ask.)

Booping her hamster alarm clock, she stretched and yawned, waking up Rachelly in the process. Rachelly had come over the previous night to sleep with her. Zoey slept with a lot of people. No, not like that. Well, sometimes like that. But not with Rachelly. Anyway, moving on.

"It's weird to see Jord morph from hamster to boy," commented Rachelly as Jordan transformed. "Cool, but weird."

Zoey papped Rachelly. "I like hamster Jord too, but boy Jord is sexy." She paused. "Anyway hamsters aren't allowed in school—which is a totally unfair rule—but that's our corrupted school system."

"We're going to school?" asked Rachelly, looking a bit confused.

"Of course!" exclaimed Zoey. "Hello, where have you been? We're going to FMS. Fandoms Minus Supernatural High School."

* * *

"FMS," muttered Hazel as she kicked a rock, walking through the hallways of the school while "What Does the Fox Say" blared over the PA. She passed by a classroom on fire, a Dalek, a hobbit, a sparkling vampire being murdered by a panda, and approximately fifty cats, but she barely batted an eye. That was just a typical day at FMS. "Stands for ** My School."

Her best friend, Ray, papped her. "** My School, yup. Not to mention Fandoms _Minus _Supernatural. MINUS SUPERNATURAL?! HOW CAN ANYONE MINUS SUPERNATURAL ANYTHING?!" Angrily, she stabbed Irma, who was just innocently walking by, killing her immediately. Luckily, she wasn't dead for long, being a cat lady with multiple lives. Not to mention people at FMS didn't stay dead for long.

"Hey, what was that for?" Irma said. She tried to look angry as she gave Ray a sweater for stabbing her. "I didn't do anything! I had nothing to do with the Minus Supernatural part! That was Dumbledore's decision! You should stab him!" Dumbledore was their headmaster.

Although Irma hadn't really meant anything, Ray took it seriously. "Stab Dumbledore? OKAY FINE I WILL! I love murdering people!"

Irma's eyes widened. "Ray, I was just jok—" Unfortunately, at that point, she passed by a yew tree in the hallway and promptly drowned.

Watching Irma drown, Hazel ate a bagel. Meanwhile, Ray looked down at the sweater she had received. "Raim? YOU GAVE ME A RAIM SWEATER?!" Even though Irma had already died twice, Ray killed her again. She probably would have killed Irma a fourth time, but the bell rang, meaning she had to get to class. Fuming, Ray stomped off to her chemistry class, while Hazel ambled over to her history class, taking her sweet time and munching on her bagel. She knew Professor Binns wouldn't mind. The boring old ghost never noticed anything.

* * *

On the other side of FMS, Zoey and Rachelly were sitting in their physics classroom.

"Physics!" exclaimed their new teacher, John Smith. "PHYSICSPHYSICS PHYSICSPHYSICSPHYSICS _PHYYYYYSICS_!"

"He's cute," whispered Zoey, eying the teacher.

"Zoey, he's the teacher, _and_ he's like twenty years older, _and_ you're already married/dating/involved with like five people, _and _I'm pretty sure he and that new lunch lady have something going on," Rachelly whispered back.

Zoey shrugged. "But dat ass."

* * *

Ray sat in chemistry, fuming. Instead of taking notes on whatever her always-drunk teacher, Mr. Abernathy, was babbling about, she was taking notes on how to kill Dumbledore. Of course she could always stab him, but then she would probably get caught. Ray wanted to kill Dumbledore and get away with it scot-free. And then maybe she would become Headmaster, and the school would be called _Only Supernatural High School_.

"Is that a Raim sweater I see?"

Ray's head whipped around so quickly that her neck almost snapped. Of course, that stupid Aim, her lab partner, had to ruin her life. Honestly, after she killed Dumbledore, Aim was next on her list. She just wanted to snog that stupid smirk off his face. Oops, stab. STAB. NOT SNOG.

"You wish," she hissed.

He shrugged. "Admit it, Ray, you're in love with me."

"I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU!" she screamed. Oops. The entire class was staring at her. Except for Mr. Abernathy, who had fallen asleep in a drunken stupor. Blushing furiously, she hit Aim with her oversized math textbook on the head to make herself feel better. He died immediately, while the class disappointedly went back to their notes. They were used to Ray killing people, and they knew Aim would revive soon. Sure enough, Aim woke up a few seconds later, still smirking. Ray fumed.

At this point, Mr. Abernathy woke up. "ALCOHOLLLL!" he yelled, slurring his words and holding up a liquor bottle. "ALCOHOL IS A SOLUUUUTION!"

The bell rang, ending the chemistry lesson.

* * *

During lunchtime, Ray sat down with Hazel. Ray was still fuming. Hazel was still eating a bagel.

"Do you ever stop eating those things?" Ray said.

"No. I have an unlimited supply. Bagels are my love," Hazel replied dreamily. "Anyway, I heard you and Aim got in _on_ during chemistry class."

"SUCK MY **!" Ray screamed.

"SUCK _MY_ **!" Hazel screamed back.

This went on for a while, when suddenly a shiny red convertible crashed through the windows and drove through the school. At the wheel was a giant panda wearing sunglasses, and in the back seat were several other pandas dressed in military uniforms.

"ANGELIQUA!" screamed Irma, clutching onto the wheel of the convertible, trying to stop Angel's driveby. Alas, she only fell off and died again from the crash. Irma was dying a lot today.

Ray sighed. "Anyway, Aim and I were _not _getting it on, okay you little **?"

Hazel raised her eyebrows but decided to give up on it for now, choosing instead to take a bite out of her bagel. After swallowing, she said, "Speaking of ships, I saw Squared cuddling in the hallway today. They're just so asdfghad." Squared referred to Jordan and Mels, the school's Golden Couple.

"Did you just say asdfghad?" said Aim, sliding into the seat next to Ray.

"YOU!" screamed Ray. "What are you doing here?!"

"I wanted to propose—"

Hazel interrupted with a very loud squeal. Ray and Aim both sent her a dirty look.

"A _truce_," Aim finished, still glaring at Hazel. "Propose a truce."

"Why?" said Ray, narrowing her eyes. It wasn't like Aim to do something like that, and she was naturally suspicious of others. It was in her demonic blood.

"Because I want to kill Dumbledore, and you want to kill Dumbledore. We can help each other so that we can both get what we want. It's only logical," Aim explained.

"Logic doesn't exist at FMS," Ray pointed out, but she had to admit that Aim was right. "Okay then, I agree with your truce." She paused. "Wait a minute. How did you know I want to kill Dumbledore?"

"You had the words _I WANT TO KILL DUMBLEDORE _all over your notebook in flaming red Sharpie with very graphic images," Aim pointed out.

"You little **!" Ray shrieked. "You don't read a girl's notebook like that!" He only smirked at her.

God, she wanted to snog him so badly. Stab! STAB. NOT SNOG.

"Whatever," said Aim. "Anyway, I have a plan. According to my sources—"

"What sources?" Ray interrupted, secretly impressed. He had really done his research.

"Yew," Aim replied. "He's a tree, he lives at this school without ever moving. Unless someone else does it for him. Usually me, since I'm his friend and all. He's heavy though. Anyway, I was saying, Yew says that Dumbledore sleeps at this school. In his office."

Ray snorted. "Are you serious? FMS is a weird high school, but I'm pretty sure Dumbledore doesn't sleep in his office."

"Hey, Yew said so. He's a tree, trees don't lie."

Ray pondered this before begrudgingly admitting that Aim was probably right. It was true, trees never lied. "So, we sneak in and murder him in his sleep or something? Wouldn't his office be locked? Wouldn't the school be locked? And wouldn't he wake up alive the next morning since, you know, no one here at FMS is dead for long?"

"Huh. I hadn't thought of that," Aim answered, scratching his head but grinning. "I'm glad we're in this truce. We're a swell team."

Ray glared, but she couldn't prevent herself from blushing. "Yeah, that's nice, but do you have any answers to those questions?"

Aim shook his head. "But don't you worry, Ray. I know someone who does. Meet me in the school playground after class. See ya!" And with that, Aim sauntered away.

"Did Aim just ask you out on a daaate?" teased Hazel, eating a bagel while stroking a cinnamon bun can.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," snapped Ray. "And it's _not _a date! SUCK MY **!"

"SUCK _MY_ **!"

"SUCK MY **!"

This went on until the bell rang, and the two friends went to their respective classes.

* * *

School was over. The final bell rang. Rachelly rushed out of the classroom as quickly as possible. She couldn't wait to get away from her English class. Her teacher, Mr. Blofis, was a nice enough man, one of her more normal teachers, but school was school, and she wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Now, where was Zoey? Zoey was her ride home; without her, Rachelly would have to _walk_ back to Coppertone Wars. That was her home.

Just then, she bumped into a familiar panda. "Angel!" she exclaimed. "Have you seen Zoey? She's my ride home."

Angel frowned and closed her eyes to concentrate, browsing through her stalker memory. Half a millisecond later—barely a blink—she opened her eyes and said, "Last I saw her, she was near Dumbledore's office. But don't worry, I can get you a ride to Coppertone Wars in my awesome Mary Sue convertible. I need to stop by there anyway. And I'll have a panda messenger tell Zoey that you're coming with me."

"Really?" asked Rachelly. "Thank you!"

* * *

Meanwhile, since school was over, Ray headed for the playground, which was in the middle of the school. Why her school had a playground at its center, she had no clue. She didn't understand a lot of things about her school. Along the way, she passed by a group of people randomly bursting into song, a group of brightly colored ponies, a boss cat with a serious business look, and a crowd of people that was squealing for no apparent reason, led by Joan, who was flailing her arms, and Hilda, who was crying over Levihan while eating mint chip ice cream. Everyone was headed in the opposite direction from her—away from the school instead of towards it. Ray wished she could just go home. But no, she had to murder the headmaster.

The playground was mostly deserted since everyone had skedaddled home, except for a chipmunk that was hugging a Cheerio. Ray thought that was a bit strange, but she'd seen a lot of weirder things. The chipmunk noticed Ray staring and scuttled away, never releasing its grip on the Cheerio.

She found Aim sitting on a swing with a strange creature by him. It had the body of a small white cat with a red oval on its back and the head of a moose.

"What the hell is that?" Ray asked, pointing at the thing.

"I'm Moosa Kyubey," answered the creature, as if it was obvious. "But you can just call me Musa."

Aim smirked at Ray's obvious surprise at the strange talking creature. "Ray, Musa is the smartest person—um, creature—that I know. She'll help us kill Dumbledore," he smugly explained. Ray looked at Musa suspiciously. How was she supposed to know that Musa wasn't going to murder _her_?

Musa nodded. "I dislike the name of the school too. Fandoms Minus Supernatural! When it's actually Fandoms Minus Supernatural and Dresden Files and Fringe—"

"You watch Fringe?" asked Ray, always happy to find another Fringe fan. Well, that sealed it. Musa had to be one hundred percent trustworthy.

"Yew does," Musa explained.

"Yewsa," Aim whispered in Ray's ear. Ray wondered when he had gotten so close. And he shipped Yewsa too! Maybe he wasn't as bad as she'd thou—No! No, no, no! She hated Aim. And she always would! But she wanted to snog him so badly… No, stab. STAB. NOT SNOG.

"Anyway," said Musa. "Killing Dumbledore. A tricky task. I'm only half-Kyubey, so I can't grant wishes, but I do have this potion. If he drinks it, he'll die. Forever!"

Ray took the blue vial Musa was holding in her cat-like paw. "So I just shove this down his throat, and he dies? Great! I love shoving things down people's throats!"

"Me too," said Aim, equally excited. "Ray, we have a lot more in common than I thought."

"Yeah," she said, before realizing what she had just said. "I mean, NO! We're mortal enemies! Just allies for this one time. ONE TIME."

Aim smirked.

Ray sighed and gripped the potion. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Getting to Dumbledore's office wasn't too difficult. She had never been there, but it wasn't too difficult to find, as there was a giant pink neon sign on his door that read, _DUMBLYDOORS AWFIS #YOLO SWAG_.

"Dumbledore is weird," Aim mumbled under his breath.

"Tell me about it," said Ray. Then she realized… _she and Aim had agreed on something again_. This was seriously starting to get creepy.

"Well," said Aim. "Here goes nothing." He reached for the doorknob and turned it, trying to open the door, but—surprise, surprise—it was locked. "**," he said. "What do we do now?"

"We can't give up!" exclaimed Ray. "I'm going to shove this potion down his throat if it costs me my own life!"

Aim gazed at her with pure adoration. "You're marvelous, Ray."

"I know," she said, smugly, before realizing what Aim had just said and turning beet red. _No no NO RAY DON'T SNOG HIM STOP THINKING ABOUT IT_.

Luckily, at that moment, a dragon appeared out of nowhere and crashed through the door to Dumbledore's office, knocking the sign askew and destroying the door, so that the door was open, and Ray wasn't given the chance to do something stupid like snog Aim. Unluckily, the dragon saw Ray and Aim and opened its mouth to eat them when—

"Drogon! Bad dragon!" said a blonde woman, reining the dragon back in. "Sorry, he's my most aggressive dragon. Carry on." With that, the dragon and the woman disappeared down the hallway.

"This school," Ray muttered.

"Exactly!" said Aim. "At least things are never boring. Come on, let's find Dumbledore."

The office was in extreme disarray, which was understandable since a dragon had just crashed through it. Photo frames were askew on the wall, paperwork was literally everywhere, the wallpaper was ripped, the desk was lopsided, and there was glass and dirt all over the ground. But no Dumbledore.

Ray was starting to get tired. She just wanted to get this murder over with! Her bloodlust was screaming to be appeased. Grumbling to herself and clutching Musa's vial, Ray carefully made her way through the mess and suddenly saw something under the desk—the edge of a long white beard. It was Dumbledore! Except what was he doing, limp and motionless under that desk?

"**!" she shrieked. "The dragon must have killed Dumbledore before I did! NOT COOL DRAGON! I totally claimed dibs to kill him first!"

"Calm down," said Aim, awkwardly papping Ray. "No one stays dead here for long. He'll probably revive himself in three… two…"

"SWAGMASTA reevivahl!" shouted Dumbledore, springing up, his beard and purple cloak nearly slapping Ray in the face. "Eh? Whatcha preps doowin een mah offiss?"

Ray blinked at the Headmaster. Dumbledore had always been a bit mad, but he was acting downright _insane_, even for Ray's standards. 'Swagmaster,' really?

"Sereeussly u preps! Outtah mah swaggay ofis!"

'Preps,' really? Okay, something was definitely wrong. Why did that sound so horribly familiar…?

Aim suddenly gasped. "Wait a minute… you can't possibly be the real Dumbledore…"

"You're that awful OOC version from the fanfic _My Immortal_!" Ray finished. (Great, now they were finishing each other's sentences. Yikes.)

Dumbledore laughed manically. "Whell, u figyurred owtt me sekrit! Eet's troo, preps, n Imma dominait da world—oar att leezt dis skool—wid mah awfal OOCnez n bahd speleeng!"

It was starting to get physically painful to listen to Dumbledore. "Not on my watch," said Ray. And with those words, she did what she had longed to do for so long. (No! Not snogging Aim!) She shoved Musa's potion down Dumbledore's throat. With a horrible shriek, Dumbledore exploded into pieces of poorly written fanfic.

Ray grimaced as she brushed the pieces of paper off her clothes. Ugh, gross. But she turned to

see Aim's grinning face, and her frown disappeared.

"We did it!" Aim exclaimed gleefully. "Or at least, _you _did. You're marvelous."

And at that moment, Ray was so high with the feeling that she had successfully killed Dumbledore that she thought, _Oh hell_, and leaned forward to snog Aim, who was happy to snog back. They probably would have snogged for eternity if they hadn't heard a loud crash, followed by a, "_**! No!"_

"What is it now?" Ray complained.

The noise had come from a closet in Dumbledore's room. Carefully, with one hand entwined with Ray's, Aim approached the door and pushed it open. To his surprise, it wasn't locked and opened to reveal…

Yew and Zoey, passionately making out with each other. Hearing the door open, Zoey stopped kissing Yew and turned towards Ray and Aim. "Oops. Hallo guys." She gave a little wave while Ray and Aim stared. God, out of all the crazy things Ray had seen today, this had got to be the craziest. And that was seriously saying something—their headmaster had exploded into fanfic a minute ago.

"What the actual ** is going on?" Aim asked, voicing Ray's thoughts perfectly.

Zoey shrugged, looking not in the least ashamed. "What does it look like, bros?"

Ray choked. "_You were making out with a tree in the Headmaster's closet_."

"Snogbox," Zoey corrected. "I call this closet a snogbox. Wanna join us? We can have a foursome. I'm sure Yew doesn't mind." (Yew, in fact, minded _very _much, but since it was for Zoey, he said nothing.)

Aim's mouth dropped open. Ray blinked. "Ah, what the hell. Sure, why not? Just, on one condition."

"What?" Zoey asked, leaning against Yew.

Ray whispered something in Zoey's ear.

* * *

April liked coming to FMS at nighttime, when everyone else was supposed to be home and asleep. There was something peaceful about the empty, quiet halls. (Strangely enough, tonight had been less quiet than usual.) Okay, real reason: April just liked lurking. Also she'd bet Lucy, her wife, on how long she could lurk at FMS without being caught. Lucy had bet eight hours; April had bet nine hours. She had been lurking on the other side of the school for approximately eight hours and fifty nine minutes when she decided that she wanted to lurk somewhere else and passed by the Headmaster's office, where she heard the singing…

"_** ** ** A DUCK_

_SCREW A LITTLE FOX_

_SIXTY-NINE A PORCUPINE_

_ORGY IN THE SNOGBOX!_"

**THE END**

* * *

Sorry about that weird ending. Also the fact that Rachelly isn't there. (Snogbox is a Clara line too!) And if Aim is OOC, my excuse is that I've never met him.


	4. A Very Strange Day

title:** A Very Strange Day**

AU: Forest and fairies. Well, you'll see.

Pairing: Jew OTP and FI mods (Rachel/Angel/Ray/Hazel/Yew/Musa/Hilda/Selene) brOTP

Warning: The usual. Crack, OOCness, my awful writing skillz...

* * *

Jordgourd the pumpkin was sad.

The reason was fairly simple: he was a pumpkin. And sometimes, being a pumpkin sucked. He could sense and talk, at least, because he was a sensing, talking pumpkin, but he couldn't move. If the sun was hot, too bad for him. And if it was raining, too bad for him. And if he had a really bad itch on the top of his stem or an annoying bug crawling up his thick orange skin, too bad for him.

And today was a prime example of one of those days when being a pumpkin really sucked, because it was raining, and Jordgourd did not like being wet. Most plants did, but he didn't.

"You're dripping on me," he complained to the plant that neighbored him, Yew the tree. "Can't you drip elsewhere?"

Yew (who was also a talking sensing plant) said, "Sorry, dude. I can't move, remember?"

"I hate you."

"I hate you too bro," Yew replied smoothly.

"I bet I hate you more," Jordgourd retorted, fuming and wishing he had a better neighbor. The worst part was, since they were both plants that were firmly rooted to the ground, he had been stuck with Yew for the past five years, alone in their garden. (It wasn't really a garden, just an abandoned patch of land on a hill where someone had, long ago, planted a pumpkin and a yew tree, although neither he nor Yew had ever found out why because, oh yeah, _they were plants who couldn't move._)

"I hate you as much as I hate breathing," Yew said.

"You're a tree," Jordgourd reminded him. If he had eyes, he would have rolled them in exasperation. "You don't breathe, you don't inhale or exhale, you don't have lungs."

Yew pointed out, "Neither do you," with a grunt.

Jordgourd sighed. He didn't like admitting it, but Yew was right there. "Well then," he said, "I wish I did! I wish I wasn't a goddamn pumpkin - _will you stop dripping on me_? I wish I could move and - "

All of a sudden, there was a loud _poof_ and a burst of sparkles! If Jordgourd had eyes, they would have widened, but he didn't. (Instead he had two small incisions in his orange skin which also functioned as ears, nostrils, and a mouth.) Caughty by surprise, he screamed. Very loudly.

"Wow, that was smooth," said the sparkly ball. Jordgourd gasped and screamed again as the sparkles split up and materialized into seven small, strange creatures each with a pair of wings.

"Y-y-ou're, wat?" Jordgourd spluttered out. God, this was too much. Too many things going on today; god, why did being a pumpkin have to suck so much? At least it had stopped raining, although little rain droplets were still dripping off Yew. "WAT? WHAT? WUT?"

Meanwhile, Yew was relatively calm. "lol."

"Someone wished?" said one of the strange creatures. This creature looked a lot like Yew, some sort of tree, except it was miniscule - the size of his pumpkin stem, perhaps - and had wings. Amidst all the shock in his system, Jordgourd found himself envying these seven creatures - they could _move_.

"Who are you?" he asked, regaining his ability to form coherent sentences.

"The FI mods, duh," said one of the winged creatures. This one looked very strange indeed - small and black with four limbs that it seemed to walk through the air with as its wings flapped. Strange, very strange.

"Waat?"

"Ehfffff iiii," repeated a different creature, rolling her eyes. This one seemed also had four limbs, although they were positioned differently, and had something golden on the top of her form - some sort of strange stem? - and was just strange, so strange. Jordgourd was getting a stemache trying to keep track of all of the creatures.

"Yeah, I get it, but what the hell is FI?" the pumpkin asked impatiently.

"F! I!" repeated the creature, the same one. "Fairies! Incorporated! We're fairies who run a challenge company - basically, other people challenge us by wishing things, and then we grant said wish if it's reasonable. And you said, 'I wish,' so we appeared, you little idjit! But you don't even know us! It's like you've been living under a rock for your entire life!"

"It's not my fault I'm a pumpkin that can't move! I've lived on this hill all my life, excuse me if I don't you!" Jordgourd shot back. "I don't even know what a fairy is!"

The fairies burst into exclamations of surprise, anger, and indignation while Jordgourd fumed and Yew said, "lol."

"We should introduce ourselves," someone finally suggested. The thing - fairy - flew close to him and smiled innocently. It was white with a red circle on its back. "I'm Musa, mostly humanoid but a quarter-Kyubey fairy."

Jordgourd pretended that he understood everything that had come out of Musa's mouth and replied, "I'm Jordgourd, a sensing and talking pumpkin. That's Yew, my sucky neighbor. He doesn't talk much."

"lol," said Yew.

Another fairy sighed. This one was black and white and rather round. "I suppose I should introduce myself. Angel, panda and Mary Sue fairy."

"Hazel," quipped up the fairy that looked like a tree. "I'm a hazel tree fairy."

"Selene, humanoid fairy," said one of the fairies, waving with her strange limbs.

"Hilda, ice cream fairy," said a fairy that resembled a green blob with brown spots. "Mint chip, to be specific."

"Rachel, boss cat fairy," said the small black fairy.

Everyone looked expectantly at the fairy with the golden stem-thing. It sighed. "Fine, I'm Ray. Admin, aka queen, see my crown? I like demons. The rest of these losers are my minions, and so are you because I JUST SAID SO. BOW NOW."

Jordgourd spluttered indignantly - he couldn't believe the nerve of that fairy! - but Yew said, coolly as ever, "We can't move, lol."

"Don't be sassy with me," snapped Ray, unimpressed with Yew's manner. "You lil **."

"lol," said Yew and Jordgourd at the same time.

Ray moved, crossing two of her limbs across her front side, and said, "I hate you."

"Anyway," said Jordgourd, the movement reminding him of his original wish. "My wish. You're supposed to grant it! So, well, grant it! I wish to move!"

"I would like lungs," Yew added.

"Not so fast, you lil **," said Ray with a smirk. "The world is not a wish-granting factory." At this, one of the fairies - the panda one, Angel, Jordgourd remembered - stood up and stabbed a sharp green stick through Ray. Ray retaliated by choking Angel. Jordgourd watched, half-horrified and half-amused.

"Technically, we are a wish-granting factory," said the tree fairy, Hazel, while Ray and Angel scrambled around, trying to kill each other. "idk about the world, guys, but we do this for a living. Basically meaning, we will grant your wish, but for a price."

"Like your firstborn child," Musa quipped with another innocent smile.

"Musa," Rachel warned, putting one of her limbs on Musa's back.

"I'm a plant, I can't exactly have a firstborn," Jordgourd said. "But if that's what you want, whatever. I don't really care, so long as I can move one day, I'll give anything."

"Like your soul?" Musa's grin became wider. It was a bit disturbing. Jordgourd was starting to have second thoughts; maybe being able to move wasn't worth it.

"Musa," Rachel repeated, giving her a serious boss cat stare. Musa sighed.

Meanwhile, Ray and Angel were still trying to kill each other and screaming, "Take that back! Take that back!" along with a stream of expletives. Somehow, Hazel and Selene had also gotten involved, and the four fairies were rolling around in the air now, clawing and stabbing and screaming at each other. The only calm fairies were Musa and Rachel, who were petting each other, and Hilda, who sat calmly reading a manga series.

Jordgourd sighed loudly. Great "mods," they were. So professional. "I can't believe this," he muttered under his breath.

"lol," said Yew.

"Is that all you ever say?" Jordgourd shrieked, getting angrier by the second. This was just too weird, and Yew was still dripping on him, the stupid tree. Honestly, he was going to drown if Yew didn't stop dripping and 'lol'ing.

"lol."

"YOU LIL ** YOU'RE SO PLAYING ME I HATE YOU!"

"lol."

"AND FOR **'S SAKE, WILL YOU STOP. DRIPPING. ON. ME!" he screamed. He suddenly realized that the fairies had stopped fighting; even Hilda looked up from her manga. They were all staring at him and Yew.

"I hate you," Jordgourd muttered. If pumpkins could blush, he would have turned bright red.

Jordgourd expected another 'lol' from his annoying neighbor, but instead Yew said, "I hate you too bro."

Jordgourd glared at Yew - well, sort of. It was sort of difficult to glare when you didn't have eyes. But he tried.

Suddenly, one of the fairies - the one with the yellow stem thing, Ray - whispered something to the tree fairy. And then Hazel whispered it to Angel, who whispered it to Hilda, who whispered it to Musa, who whispered it to Rachel, who whispered it to Selene, who threw her head back to the sky and screeched, "JJJJEEEEEWWWWW!"

"Wut," said Jordgourd and Yew at the same time. Whoa. Even Yew was confused - that was a very bad sign.

"Your ship!" exclaimed Hazel, flailing around her limbs. "RAY IS RIGHT. JEW. YOU'RE IN LOVE."

"JEW YES THAT IS THE SHIP NAME IT'S PERFECT!" Ray gushed.

"You guys are crazy," the pumpkin proclaimed. Suddenly, lightning flashed in the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance, but it didn't rain and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. And the fairies - what the actual ** were the fairies doing?

"JEW. JEW. JEW." Five of the fairies arranged themselves into a pentagon while the other two fairies flew around and began to dance, all while demonically chanting. "JEW. JEW. JEW." The skies suddenly went dark; the only light came from the growing fire in the center of the pentagon and the eerie glowing of the fairies' eyes. "JEW. JEW. JEW."

"A sacrifice," said Ray, reaching for one of Yew's branches. She took out a large saw, the blade glittering wickedly with the reflection of the fire.

"NO!" Jordgourd suddenly yelled out. He'd had enough. "Dudes, no. STOP THIS NOW. No demonic chanting, no creepy glowing eyes, no pentagons, no sacrifices, NO!"

The fairies looked taken aback. Slowly, their eyes returned to normal, the fire died down, and the sky even became bright again. "I don't understand," said Ray. "We could have given you lungs and the ability to move! With your sacrifice - but mostly the power of shipping - we fairies could have turned you into a little Jewish boy!"

"The power of shipping? Are you serious?" interrupted Jordgourd.

"Don't you dare underestimate the power of shipping!" Ray hissed. Nearby, Rachel literally hissed, in the way only a boss cat fairy could. "We could have given you glory! We were going to give you membership to FI, and we were even thinking of modding the tree! Apologize or you will suffer!" Ray screamed. "You know not what you have given up!"

"I don't care!" Jordgourd said stubbornly. "I don't even care if I never move! I just want you guys to leave Yew and I alone!"

"Yeah, don't touch my branches," Yew said. "Also, I hate fairies."

The fairies gasped. "FINE THEN!" Ray screamed. And with a poof, the fairies disappeared, just as quickly as they'd appeared.

"You alright, Yew?" Jordgourd asked as soon as the fairies were gone. Not because he cared or anything. Just... yeah.

Yew shrugged. "Lungs would still be nice. Also movement. So I could ** you."

"Thanks. Wait, wat?"

Yew said nothing except for, "lol." Jordgourd felt more raindrops drip onto his pumpkin head.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too bro," Yew replied smoothly.

**THE END**


	5. The Taste of Cinnamon

**Title; **The Taste of Cinnamon

**AU; **DW AU

**Pairings; **Cinbunzel / OTP / Irmangel / broTP

**Notes**; written by Angel, sorry it's late. idk what I'm doing.

* * *

Sometimes, she catches the Doctor staring at the walls, tears dripping down her face. Irma never sees the tears, and the Doctor's a silent cryer, but she knows they are there, leaving salty trails on her face.

Sometimes, she hears the heartbeat of the contraption—it's so loud, it overpowers the constant low hum—when that happens, when the Doctor's knuckles turn white and she rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes, and knows that the TARDIS is alive, and it cares.

A few hallways away, Angel's room is empty.

* * *

It started like this.

"Hello, my name's Ha—the Doctor. Welcome to my home, also known as the TARDIS, also known as Time and Raylative Dimension in Space."

"It's bigger on the inside," the two girls said in unison. They were turning in circles, staring at the swirling cinnamon walls of the TARDIS like the idiots they were—eyes wide, jaws on the floor.

"No shit, Sherlock." The woman snorted, shrunk to the size of a girl and blew a mock kiss to no one in particular. She was Asian, like the two girls, a few inches taller and a year older at best. "You are?"

"Angel."

"Irma."

* * *

The first time they save a world is two weeks later; it's a tiny world, so small that you could walk it in a day, but a world nonetheless. The few civilians crowd around them, saying their thanks for not letting the weeds inhabiting the planet split it in two to leave them to drift off into space. They were short, almost dwarf-like, but oddly humanoid. Their mayor was a tiny woman named Mel.

Angel searched their faces, their eyes, wide with innocence, and feels no trust. They were _aliens_; her fingers curled inward at the foreign, and she was terrified.

"Let's leave," she said briskly, trying to avoid the people trailing after her. She tapped her fingertips against the cinnamon bun can, the rhythm blurring together, and disappeared.

Irma took a moment to observe the planet as the Doctor smiled, tucked her sonic screwdriver into the pocket of her trenchcoat and vanished too.

The remaining companion made a small noise of wonder and awe, staring at the galaxies beyond her, and waited for her cry to bounce into the void.

* * *

A few months passed before Angel said abruptly from the center of the room, her favorite panda plushie clutched close to her, "I want to go home."

They had had so many adventures both companions were dazed, adrenaline almost constantly running through their veins, circles under their eyes, but the difference is, one of them was happy and the other was not.

"Why?" asked Irma, the only other person in the room. She set down her copy of _Flowers for Algernon_, pages dog-eared, the soft rustle of paper brushing against each other quieting down as she leaned forward. "It's great here."

It was sort of odd, really—generally, Angel had been the more energetic one, the one who got enthusiastic at a ridiculous amount of things and was never bored, but she looked withdrawn, retreating into her shell. "I miss home."

Irma tried to be understanding, but she glanced at the wall as it went transparent and watched the stars blink outside. _Pick a star, any star_, the Doctor had said. _Pick it, and it'll be yours._

Silence hovered in the air.

* * *

Months turned into years, and Angel never spoke of it again. On Irma's eighteenth birthday, she finally picked a star—well, planet. There had been so many she couldn't choose, but now her path looked clear. As soon as she pointed at the planet she wanted, the Doctor simply tapped her fingers against the console, and in a whir of colors, they were there.

Angel's eyes widened as she saw Paris, France flash before them.

* * *

It was a simple adventure, hardly different from any of the usual—not that Irma could find herself to say her adventures were _usual_. In the years that had passed, she'd learned things that she never would have had she stayed on Earth, ugly and beautiful things, cruel and wonderful things, but mostly she was glad she hadn't stayed, even if she was here now.

It was only until they got back to the TARDIS that they saw it was broken—the can looked like it had been steamrolled by a tank, cinnamon and icing spilling across the ground. It had broken down a few times before, or been uncooperative, but neither girl had seen this amount of damage.

They hadn't seen the Doctor crumple crying against it before, either.

It was only until Irma twisted around to hear Angel screaming, "_Run_!" until she realized how much trouble they were in.

* * *

She woke up three weeks later, feeling like sand was crusted beneath her eyelids, and smacked her lips together before pulling herself to a sitting position. "Where. . .where am I?"

"You're awake!" cried the Doctor in delight, and it took a few moments to realize Irma was back in the cinnamon bun. She rubbed the backs of her hands against her eyes before breaking off a piece of the walls as casually as she could, trying to look awkward but really just exhausted. "I thought you never would wake up."

"What happened?" Irma asked, stuffing the piece of cinnamon bun into her mouth. She wiped glaze off her fingers.

"Weeping angels," the Doctor said, joining her in eating cinnamon buns. At the name, something caught in Irma's throat, and she glanced down. "They tried to steal the TARDIS. They almost snapped your neck; you've been in a coma."

"And Angel?"

The Doctor got up from her seat and tapped a few buttons on the console before an image flashed across the wall behind her. A gravestone. _Angelica Howell, Died Age 69_—

Irma didn't read any more.

* * *

"All my companions leave me eventually, you know," says the Doctor the day after. She counts them off on her fingers, whispering silent names. "Two of them went the same way she did." Irma thinks it's horribly ironic that Angel died through a weeping angel. She can't lip-read very well, but somehow, she manages to get the names the Doctor is mouthing: _Hilda. Enna. Rachel. Joan. Tux. Zoey_. The list spins on and on, like the Fates weaving their tapestry.

"Are you saying it's time for me to leave?" Irma asks. She stares at Angel's favorite panda plushie, perched on a polished mahogany desk.

"The only companion I've ever really had that stays," the Doctor goes on, "is this one." She points at the TARDIS, a low hum emitting from it as usually. It rises slightly in volume, an almost appreciative purr. "And. . .it's your choice."

Earth is still on the screen. She can move now; she can take just a few steps. And really, she can't claim to know the universe at eighteen, but in a way, Earth is still her home. Angel wasn't entirely right, but she can't keep doing this, spinning around the galaxy in a cinammon bun can forever.

Irma swallows down her fear and guilt, picks up the panda plushie—there's a distinct red stain on it from when she accidentally splashed cranberry juice on it on her birthday, much to Angel's dismay, but she'd shut up because it was her birthday—and steps out.

* * *

_Three months later, the Doctor finds a girl sitting on the steps of a church, iPod in hand. She's maybe a college freshman, eyes smeared with black eyeliner, clothes all dark colors, and she's holding a copy of _Flowers for Algernon. _She's distinctly bored._

_"My name's the Doctor, but call me Hazel," the other person says. "Could you step aside?" There's odd sounds inside the church, and she can smell smoke, but maybe it's just the candles. Either way, there's trouble, and she's here._

_The girl nods curtly and shifts. "I'm Emmeline."_


	6. Soup or Natural

title: **Soup Or Natural**

AU: Supernatural - well, sort of

Pairing: Fray/Faim (Fraim) OTP and Francis/Fella/Felicia (Faymily siblings) brOTP

warnings: Crackiness, ya know. Mild violence.

* * *

[Total darkness. Total silence. Total... nothing.]

_Lights, camera, action!_

All at once the room comes to life. Music pours out of the speakers, along with canned laughter and applause and cheering, while multicolored spotlights flit across the room until finally, it settles upon one person on the stage. The bright lights make her look slightly washed out - her light Asian skin paler than usual, her dark hair taking on the yellow tint of the yellow light. And then she grins, a grin so wide and manic that it is almost scary, and not dimmed at all by the light. The applause and music settle down, just slightly, as she raises her microphone to her lips.

"Weeeellllcoooommmme," the girl in the spotlight yells, dragging out the word in the way only a game show host can. "To the all hit game show, the number one game show in all of Ahhhmericaaaa. I'm your host, Ray Raygun. Who's ready for another round of _Soup! Or! Naturaaaaaaalllll!_" She accentuates each word with a punch in the air, and dramatically drags out the last syllable of _natural _while the music and applause and cheering come back, in full swing, perhaps even louder than before, as the entire stage lights up to reveal a motley group of contestants, three on each side of the stage, sitting behind booths.

The camera pans out of Ray Raygun's face for a few moments while it pans over our contestants. On the right side of the stage sits a pretty blonde woman, a dark-haired Asian girl wearing glasses and what appears to be a dress made out of a blue towel that looks suspsiciously like Ray Raygun but her name card reads _Fray _so it can't possibly be Ray Raygun, and a man who looks bored.

On the left side of the stage sit three children. The oldest one looks around ten and wears Harry Potter glasses and a green, wasabi-colored t-shirt that reads, _WASABI IS HOW THE COOL KIDS SAY WASSUP_. The second kid is a little girl with pigtails and a red checkered dress that can't be any older than six, and she holds in her arms the third child - a mere baby, wrapped in a towel and wearing, strangely enough, a collar of jingle bells around her neck.

The camera then switches back to Ray Raygun, who looks a little off and - huh she really does suspiciously look like Fray but she is Ray Raygun so of course not. "On today's edition of Soup Or Natural," the game show host explains, "the theme is kids versus grown-ups! So on the right side of the stage, we got our grown-ups: Fray and Faim, a married couple, and Mary, Fray's cousin. And on the left side of the stage, we got our kids: Fray and Faim's children! Francis, Felicia, and Fellaaaaaaaaaa!"

More wild applause and cheering pours out of the speakers, while the contestants smile.

"Now," says Ray Raygun once the applause has settled down, "America's number one faaaavorite game show shall begin! So, we'll start with the grown-uuuuuups! Who wants to go first?"

The camera portrays Faim and Mary, huddling up together, probably discussing strategy - but wait, where is Fray? Oh, there she is. Huh, wasn't her towel draped a different way before, and man, does she look like Ray Raygun, but it's probably a coincidence...

"I'll go first," says the blonde. She confidently steps out from behind her booth and smiles towards the camera.

"Great, great," says Ray Raygun. "So, Miss Mary, why don't you tell us about yourself before you seal your fate, hm?"

"Oh, okay," says Mary. She sends another dazzling smile towards the camera; she really is a beautiful young woman. "My name is Mary Winchester, and I have two wonderful little kids, and - "

"Time's up!" interrupts Ray Raygun. "Okay! Now! Mary, you must answer the question that all Soup Or Natural contestants must answer, the very question that will seal your fate, make you and the adults or break you and the adults, very big for the team, and the question is - Soup? Or? _Naturaaaaaaaaaal_?"

Mary Winchester looks at the camera once more. She strokes her chin, deep in though. And then she opens her mouth and -

**[COMMERCIAL BREAK]**

On the screen, the camera focuses on a crew of dancing emus, all singing, "Emu, emu, emus, we-e-e all love emus, gitchie goochie eemy eemy emus..." while a woman, voicing over, says, "Emus are awesome. This has been a PSA."

The advertisement awkwardly cuts off, replaced by a picture of a serene beach resort. The sound of ocean waves and classical violin and piano play in the background.

"Are you in need of a vacation?" says a woman, dressed in a bikini with a Barbie body and Barbie smile, relaxing in a beach chair. "Then come to FanFiction ImagiNation, the number one beach resort in the world. It's calm and perfect and oh-so-relaxing and serene." She puts on her sunglasses and leans back in a chair and -

_BOOM!_

Suddenly there is a loud explosion of blood and fire. Manic laughter roars in the background. _Muahuahua_, _mwahuahua_. There is nothing else on the screen except for one number: 69, which flickers and turns into 666, which again flickers and turns into 2048.

The screen goes black.

**[BACK TO THE SHOW]**

"Aaaaaaaaaaand now we're back onto America's number one hit game show, Soup! Or! Naturaaaaaaaaaal! I'm your host, Ray Raygun!" Ray Raygun, as host-like as always, bows as wild applause plays. "We're here with Mary Winchester, who is going to tell us - soup or natural?"

The camera switches back to Mary Winchster, her mouth half open. The applause is replaced with suspenseful music, while the camera zooms in closer to her face.

"Natural," she finally says.

"Great decision!" says Ray Raygun. "Remember, you chose this. So how about some natural - fire?"

"What?" says Mary. She backs away, as if detecting something is wrong, but it's too late. Flames erupt from beneath her, pinning her to the ceiling. As she burns on the ceiling, she screams and squirms, but resistance is futile. She is burnt up to a crisp. Ray Raygun laughs morbidly while her other family members watch in horror, with the exception of Fella, who gurgles and coos in the way only a baby can.

"Ooh, wasn't that nice?" says Ray Raygun as the ashes of Mary Winchester drip off the ceiling behind her. "Here on Soup Or Natural, anything can happen! Now, it's time for the kiiiiiids! Who wants to go first?"

Complete and utter silence.

"Now, if someone doesn't volunteer, I'm gonna have to chooooose," Ray Raygun sing-songs.

Francis looks at his feet. Felicia stares open-mouthed at the remains of her aunt burning on the ceiling. Fella gurgles and coos.

"Okay, I'll choose," says Ray Raygun. "How about Fella?"

Francis gasps. Felicia begins to cry. "B-b-but she's onwy seven munshs," she wails.

Ray Raygun morbidly smiles. "Don't worry, she won't burn on the ceiling like Mary Winchester over there! And anyway, it's all just part of the game here on Soup or Naturaaaaaaaaaal! Aw, Felicia, don't cry, you cute little thing, it's bad television when little kids cry! Why don't you tell tell us about your sister, since she can't talk? Cute accent, by the way."

Felicia looks a little less scared. "I'm mishing a toof," she says, smiling. The camera focuses on her gap-toothed smile - she's missing both her front teeth. "And thish ish my baby shishter, Fella. Her real name ish Jinle Bellsh but - "

"Time's up!" Ray Raygun interrupts. "That was interesting, though, Jingle Bells, who would've known? Now, Fella, tell us - Soup? Or? Naturaaaaaaaal?"

The dramatic music restarts. The camera switches to Mary Winchester burning on the ceiling for just a moment before switching back to little baby Fella, heighten the tension.

Francis and Felicia hug each other in fear for their baby sister. Fella, left on the booth, gurgles and coos. "Gaagaagoogoonatu mamanoo!"

"Did I hear soup?" says Ray Raygun. "Well, okay then! How about some... lukewarm broccoli soup?" Out of nowhere, a pan of lukewarm broccoli soup pours onto Fella, who begins wailing. Francis and Felicia gasp out of relief before tending to their baby sister, who is covered in ugly green liquid and is crying her head off.

"Wasn't that nice?" Ray Raygun gives the camera her signature morbid grin. "Moving on, to the aduuuuuuuults! Right after this!"

**[COMMERCIAL BREAK]**

The screen is black and quiet, and then you hear a voice off screen.

"Hey," says a female voice, "do you know what's black and white and red all over?"

No one responds.

"A panda murdering an emu!" replies the first person, answering her own question. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Suddenly the screen flickers to life. Gone are the dancing emus of the previous commercial breaks; they have been replied by brutal black and white pandas sticking red knives into emus while blood spills everywhere.

"Emus suck," says the same female voice as before, again off screen. "This has been a PSA."

The advertisement cuts off, again replaced by a black screen with nothing but two numbers in thick white font: 2048 and 666. In the background, a demonic choir sings and chats, getting louder and louder.

"Two-zero-four-eight six-six-six two-zero-four-eight six-six-six TWO-ZERO-FOUR-EIGHT SIX-SIX-SIX _TWO-ZERO-FOUR-EIGHT SIX-SIX-SIX _**_TWO-ZERO-FOUR-EIGHT SIX-SIX-SIX _****_TWO-ZERO-FOUR-EIGHT SIX-SIX-SIX!_**"

**[BACK TO THE SHOW]**

"Welcome back to America's number one game show, Soup Or Naturaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!" Ray Raygun's cheerful familiar face and over-exaggerated voice replaces the demonic chanting. "I'm your host, Ray Raygun!" she repeats, as if everyone doesn't already know that. "And, here's to recap. Mary Winchester is burning on the ceiling, and Fella is covered in lukewarm broccoli soup!" As she speaks, the camera shows Mary Winchester who is nothing more than ashes now, and to Felicia and Francis, who are trying to wipe off the broccoli soup while rocking her back and forth. Fella sucks on a pacifier.

"And now, it is, once again, the adult's tuuuuuuuurn!" says Ray Raygun, off screen, as the camera has focused onto the adult side, where Faim and Fray are - but wait, where is Fray?

"Sorry, I went to go use the bathroom," says Fray, huffing and puffing. (Doesn't she look like Ray Raygun? But she's wearing a towel, so she can't be Ray Raygun.) "What's going on?"

"Well," says Ray Raygun, again off camera, "one of you have to go next! And answer the question! Will you burn on the ceiling like Mary Winchester? Will you be dunked in broccoli soup? Or will you win a million dollars? Who knows, here on Soup Or Naturaaaaaaaaal?"

"I'll go," says Faim.

"Are you sure?" says Fray. "What if you die, like Mary?"

"Better me than you, my love."

"My love!" Fray echoes.

Faim and Fray then proceed to make out for a good ten minutes, while the audience cat calls. The camera zooms in a couple times before getting bored and panning back to the children.

"They always do this," complains Francis.

"Onsh I wakked in on them in the bedloom!" says Felicia, with a shudder. "Twish!"

Fella sucks her pacifier.

"Hey, where did Ray Raygun go?" Francis asks, his brow furrowing.

"Right here!" says Ray Raygun, rushing into the view of the camera. She looks strangely disheveled, with swollen lips and messy hair, as if she's been making out with someone for the past ten minutes - hey, wait a minute, can it be? Nah, of course not.

"Where was I, anyway?" Ray Raygun continues, patting down her hair, straightening her posture, and putting on her famous game show host smile. "Oh yes! Faim! Soup? Or? Naturaaaaaaaaaaal?"

The dramatic music plays again as the camera dramatically zooms into Faim's face. His eyes flicker to Mary Winchester, who said _natural _and ended up burning on the ceiling, and his daughter Fella, who said _soup _and ended up getting dunked in lukewarm brocolli soup. Well then. The answer is easy.

"Natural," says Faim.

"Well, well, well, Faim," says Ray Raygun. "What about some all natural... _acid_!"

"What? But - " Faim is cut off mid-sentence as a bowl of acid soup appears out of thin air and is poured all over him. He screams as the liquid burns down his body, and he dissolves into nothing. The audience wails and shrieks along with him.

"Wasn't that nice?" says Ray Raygun. She waves goodbye to Faim, wiggling her fingers, before turning back to the children. "Okay! And for the kiddos! Who wants to volunteer to go next?"

Francis and Felicia are both crying now. "Daddy!" shouts Francis, while Felicia wraps her arms around her brother's leg, sniffling and wiping her snot on his shorts. Fella sucks on her pacifier.

"Now, don't all volunteer at once!" Ray Raygun chuckles at her own joke.

Complete and total silence.

"Franshish wantsh to do it!" Felicia suddenly blurts out.

"What? No I don't! Felicia, I'm going to kill you for this!" Francis cries as Ray Raygun grins and rubs her fingers together.

"You'll pwobably die firsh," Felicia replies with a shrug. Smart kid.

"Enough stalling," says Ray Raygun, as Francis cries harder. "I'm sure all our viewers want to know... Soup? Or? Naturaaaaaaaal?"

Francis gulps and tries to wipe his tears but instead ends up spreading mucus all over his face. Felicia looks a little guilty but distracts herself by picking at a thread of her dress. Mary Winchester continues to burn on the ceiling. Faim is an acid puddle on the ground. Fray is... who knows where Fray is, actually?

Fella sucks on her pacifier.

**[COMMERCIAL BREAK]**

The dancing emus are back. "Eeemy, eemy, emus, don't let yourself be brainwashed by pandas, eeemy, eemy, emus, we-e-e all love em - "

"NO WE DON'T!" Out of nowhere, pandas with huge sniper guns bombard the peaceful scene and begin murdering the emus. The emus, however, are prepared this time and retaliate with their own guns. Blood goes everywhere, and then something hits the camera and -

**[STATIC]**

**[BACK TO THE SHOW]**

Ray Raygun pokes the remains of Mary Winchester with a long stick while digging her heel into the Faim puddle. "Oh what, we're on?" she mumbles to someone off screen. "Oh, I mean, helllloooooooo loyal viewers! We're back on Soup Or Naturaaaaal! To recap, Mary and Faim are dead, Fella is dirty, and Felicia just betrayed her brother Francis, who must, of course, decide between soup or natural!"

The camera swerves over to show Francis, who has stopped crying but is biting his nails anxiously. Felicia cuddles Fella, who is asleep.

"Have you decided, Francis? Oh wait, but before you do, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

Francis nods. "U-uh, I-I'm a cool kid, and I sound like a French snob because my parents were on a chess-induced high and I don't like chess and and and am I going to die? Please don't say I'm going to - "

"TIME'S UP!" Ray Raygun shouts. "Time for the big decision! Soup or natural?"

"Uh, uh, uh," Francis stammers. He looks at his baby sister, who chose soup and is alive, and at his aunt Mary and daddy, who chose natural and died. "Soup?"

"Good choice!" says Ray Raygun. Francis looks relieved for a second, when she adds, "How about some all natural... _acid soup_?"

"Wait, bu - "

The soup pours all over him, and Francis dissolves into a puddle with a sizzle. He doesn't even have enough time to scream. Felicia's just a bit too close, and a tiny bit lands on her dress. She shrieks as a small hole appears in her dress.

"Wasn't that nice?" asks Ray Raygun. It seems like a rhetorical question, but then she turns to Felicia. "Seriously, wasn't that nice, dearie?"

Felicia isn't quite sure how to answer. Something about Ray Raygun's tone makes her very, very nervous...

"You know, Felicia," says Ray Raygun, leaning closer to the little girl. "I may be a soulless demon who takes joy in watching people die after they choose the wrong thing, but even demons have their morals... and betraying your brother was not cool... and I just want to see another kid die... so... ACID SOUP!"

"_Aaaaaaa_!" Acid soup goes everywhere, not only burning through Felicia but also her booth and little Fella. Ray Raygun grins.

"Wasn't that nice?"

**[COMMERCIAL BREAK]**

**[STILL STATIC]**

**[BACK TO THE SHOW]**

"Welcome back! Here on Soup Or Naturaaaaaaal, things are drawing to a close," says Ray Raygun. "I'm your host, Ray Raygun! Let's recap! Mary is dead, Faim is dead, Francis and Felicia and Fella are dead!" As she speaks, clips from previous moments of the show play in a flashback-like montage. The montage ends, and the camera re-focuses onto Ray Raygun. "Since all the kids are dead, it seems as if the adults have won! But first, Fray needs to answer this one question - " Ray Raygun directs her microphone towards the audience, which yells -

"Soup? Or? Natural?"

The camera pans over the audience, which is wildly applauding and cheering and chanting, and then it goes back to the stage, where Fray is standing alone - isn't it odd how Fray and Ray Raygun are never on stage at the same time?

"SOUP OR NATURAL. SOUP OR NATURAL. SOUP OR NATURAL?" the audience chants.

Fray lifts her hands and waves at the audience to settle down. Dramatic music plays while the camera, once again, dramatically zooms in. "I choose..." Fray pauses very dramatically. "_Or_!"

The audience is silent. Even the dramatic music has stopped, replaced by a dramatic pause. Everyone holds their breath as they await Ray Raygun's response. Has Fray made the correct decision? Will she burn on the ceiling like Mary Winchester? Will she share her family's fate?

"Coooooongratulations, Fray," Ray Raygun finally says, her voice off camera. (Huh, doesn't it look like Fray is mouthing Ray Raygun's lines?) "You have _won Soup Or Natural_! You have received one billion dollars, a Cadillac, a giant trophy, and a forever place in the Hall of Fame!"

The audience erupts into wild applause. Confetti and glitter and rainbows rain all over the stage as Fray jumps up and down.

"YEAH!" she screams. "I win, I win! What, no, I didn't rig it! No, I'm not actually Ray Raygun! SHUT UP AND SUCK MY **. I WIN! I WIN **ES! I WIN!"

**[FADE INTO STATIC]**


	7. While You Were Sleeping

title: **While You Were Sleeping  
**

AU: Toy Story AU

Pairing: Free-for-all (Day 7)

Usual warnings apply, I'm sure you're used to this all by now aren't you?

* * *

All children have that one item. Their comfort item, the thing they can't sleep with, what they squeeze and hug to their chest when they're afraid or sad or angry or happy. For some children it's a blanket. For others it's a worn out teddy bear. And for others it's a cowboy doll and space ranger action figure.

For Hazel Mallorn, it was her plush cat doll, Tux, and her stuffed cinnamon bun can doll, named Cinbun. Tux was a majestic black cat, with soft pink ears and a white neck that was slightly gray from being hugged and kissed too often. Cinbun was a typical cinnamon bun can, cylindrical with a blue Pillsbury logo and silver ends, except made of felt and stuffing.

Hazel Mallorn carried these two dolls around everywhere. When she scraped her knee in the playground, she hugged Tux and Cinbun while her mother poured rubbing alcohol onto the wound and dried her tears with Tux's tail. When she woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare that a monster was chasing her, the first thing she reached for was Cinbun's label and Tux's ears. On the first day of preschool, she carried the worn plushies in her backpack and comforted herself in knowing that her best friends were by her side when she got lost on the way to the art room.

"I love you, Tux," she said every night before going to bed, kissing the cat behind its ears and stroking its fur. "And I love you just as much, Cinbun." She kissed the felt gray ends and rubbed it against her cheek before placing them both on her bedside table and turning out the lights. As she drifted off to sleep, she could've sworn she heard two voices chime back - "I love you too, Hazel..."

And then, darkness, as she was dragged into the land of her dreams.

* * *

"She's asleep!" declared Tux, who was always the closest to their human owner.

Suddenly, the room came to life. The cabinets swung open, the drawers pushed themselves out, and Cinbun hopped off his place in the bedside table. Hazel's many dolls came off the shelves and out of the closets.

"Thank goodness, she threw me on my left side, and I hate being frozen in that position," complained Irma, who was a plastic version of the little old lady who lived in a shoe, a free toy that came with the picture book. "I'm not like you two," she said, speaking to Cinbun and Tux. "Not her favorite. Just a plastic old lady." A large stuffed emu walked up to Irma and papped her with his beak. "Thanks Emu," said Irma, hugging Emu's feathers.

Tux shrugged and smoothed down his fur. "I don't know, though. Being Hazel's favorite has its setbacks. I mean, what if, when she gets older, she wants to... do... things with me that I wouldn't really like?"

"Like what?" said Irma, still stroking Emu.

"Like... you know," said Tux, trying to be discreet.

"Sex," said Cinbun bluntly. He spoke out of a drawing of a hole in his gray felt. In a real cinnamon bun can, this would have been his lid.

"Oh," said Irma, her eyes the size of saucers. "Oh, _oh_."

A large stuffed panda hopped off the dresser and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Irma, sex." She turned back to Cinbun and Tux. "Although, to be honest, I'm kind of on Irma's side for this one. Why are you worried that Hazel will want to have sex with her stuffed animals when she gets older? And anyway, for Christ's sake, she's currently _four and a half_. She's even more innocent than Irma."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Irma wailed.

The panda, Angel, waved Irma's interruption away and continued, "Have you been talking to Zoey again?" Zoey was a small black teddy bear, the only one Hazel owned, and one of the cutest toys in the room - possibly the world. However, her innocent demeanor concealed a dirty, kinky mind.

Tux and Cinbun guiltily exchanged glances. "Maybe?"

"I'm sure there's nothing for you to worry about," said Angel.

"There's always something to worry about," said Ray, slinking out of the shadows. She was Hazel's third most favorite toy, a red and black demon doll with horns and a tail and a pitchfork that Hazel had won at a carnival. Her mother hadn't approved of it very much and wanted to throw it out, but Hazel smuggled it into her room and simply hid it whenever her mother was nearby.

"Oh, come on," said Zoey, coming out from behind Ray. "I mean, maybe there is something to worry about, but personally, sleeping with Hazel wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Nothing to worry about."

"Hey, I, uh, gotta go, do some old lady things," interrupted Irma. Taking Emu with her, she disappeared. Angel rolled her eyes and waved goodbye. The other four dolls hardly batted an eye but simply continued with their conversation.

"Well, the thing is," said Tux, "I... I can't sleep with Hazel because... I'm... I have to stay loyal, you know?"

"Loyal?" said Ray. "To who? It's not like you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything."

Tux and Cinbun exchanged glances. A silent conversation appeared to be being held between the two dolls' eyes. Cinbun finally blurted out, "Right. He just meant... it would be weird."

Zoey shrugged. "I was just joking anyway, when I said Hazel would sleep with you. I'm sure she'll find something else. She doesn't strike me as the type."

* * *

"That was close," Cinbun said later, when he and Tux were left alone. The rest of the dolls were partying in Hazel's bedroom, but he and Tux had sneaked outside the hallway, where the lighting was dimmer and the wallpaper featured pink and blue flowers. Very romantic. Tux wrapped one of his paws around Cinbun, walking on two legs while Cinbun hopped around on one metal end.

"Sorry I couldn't keep my mouth shut," he said. He sighed. "I don't understand why we have to keep this a secret!"

"I'm just not ready," said Cinbun. "I'm afraid."

"Don't be," whispered Tux, stroking Cinbun's felt label. "I love you. And I want everyone to know that." He brought his lips to the picture of the cinnamon buns on Cinbun's side.

"One day, I'll be ready to tell them. But as for all... I just want to enjoy this. Us," Cinbun replied, pressing closer into Tux. "And Tux? I-I love you too."

* * *

Ah, the illicit love affair between cinnamon bun cans and Hazel's cats. Legit ship I swear. Can/Cat. What, it's freeforall!


End file.
